Book One: Reversi
by Scrawlers
Summary: Lea, Cheren, Bianca, and Blair are four ordinary new Trainers from Unova. N is a not-so-normal Trainer from underground. This is their story. "Breakdowns are really just breakthroughs. It takes hitting the bottom to make it to the top."
1. Chapter One

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Pokémon Black and White or any of the references contained herein. I am making no profit off this fanfiction whatsoever.

**Authors' Note: **This is a novelization of the Pokémon Black and White games (which used to be called The Domino Effect, though I've changed the name to something more fitting), as you may have gathered, although (however it may seem at first) it will not be a _strict _novelization. I am taking as many liberties with the plot as I see fit, and as such, it will be quite a bit darker than the original games. Either way, I hope that you enjoy it—and if you read it, please leave a review.

The names "Whitlea" and "Blair" come from the names used for the main player characters during the North American mall tour. I enjoyed those names more than the names "Hilda" and "Hilbert," and as such, they stuck. Also, though it is certainly not required, you might want to check out another fanfiction of mine, _Absolute. _It contains some background on the Shadow Triad, and while the sequel games might have rendered that non-canon by this point (as if there was any chance of them doing otherwise), that is still the version of the Shadow Triad that I will be using in this fic.

Anyway, as I said, please leave me a review if you read.

* * *

Book One: Reversi

_"I have always been delighted at the prospect of a new day, a fresh try, one more start, with perhaps a bit of magic waiting somewhere behind the morning."_ -J. B. Priestly

**Chapter One: The Set-Up**

* * *

Sixteen-year-old Cheren Alabaster stood in the doorway of what he was pretty sure was the messiest room in Unova, if not the entire world.

It looked like the bedroom of a frat boy, or perhaps a tornado based pokèmon. To start with, there were clothes everywhere. The largest pile was in the corner, overflowing from a wicker hamper that was sitting by the window, spilling down onto the hardwood floor. Mismatched socks hung from random surfaces: the top of the lamp, down from the ceiling fan blades, from the edge of a mini orange basketball hoop stationed above a small wire trash can by the desk. The desk itself – pressed up against the wall between the bed and the wicker hamper – was covered in random papers, from old, half-completed homework assignments, to poorly marked essays, and a laptop bearing a _Steel Samurai/Jammin' Ninja _wallpaper was sitting dead center the abandoned homework zone. The low-rise bed wasn't made, its covers halfway pooled onto the floor, and a myriad of soda cans dotted the room, sitting on the bedside table, what space there was on the desk, and on the television stand set up along the right wall. Said television stand had various game consoles plugged into it, and there was a bookshelf beside that, lined with an extensive collection of comic books (the only organized things in the room) and collectible figures. The back wall, meanwhile, sported Lea's dresser, which housed a large stereo and several half-open drawesr with clothes spilling out, and mounted on the wall next to the dresser was a full length mirror with a spider crack in it, random stickers plastered all over the glass. Any wall space that wasn't covered by furniture, meanwhile, was covered by posters, either for various bands (Dragonite Force, Iced Ground, Rhapsody of Fire Types, et cetera), or various video games and superhero movies (Assassin's Deed: Sisterhood, The Legend of Zelda: Majora's Mask, Zubatman: The Dark Knight). The room vaguely smelled of nacho cheese, and after a moment, Cheren spotted why: a plate of nachos was sitting on top of the dresser, balancing precariously on the edge.

And amongst the chaos, chewing gum and tying her long, dark brown hair into a high ponytail to tug through her baseball cap, was the owner of the supposed bedroom (more like disaster area): Whitlea "Lea" Fiona Fair.

"Oh, hey, Cheren!" Lea called, grinning brightly. Cheren raised one hand in greeting, and was about to verbalize said greeting, when she spoke again. "You're early!" He frowned.

"I'm actually a couple minutes late, which means that you should have had enough time to clean this place up." He adjusted his glasses, coal grey eyes sweeping the room. "Please tell me all of those soda cans are empty, and that those nachos are from today. Honestly, Lea, I don't see how your room isn't overrun with bug pokèmon." Lea rolled her eyes.

"Oh, c'mon, it's not that bad. Most of the soda cans are empty, I think, and the nachos _are _from today. Don't be so prickly." Cheren rolled his eyes in turn, and stepped around the fallen clothes to try and make his way over to the bed. For a moment, it appeared as though he was going to sit, but seemed to think better of it after a moment and refrained.

"I'd rather be prickly than incorrigible."

"I don't even know what that means," Lea said, folding her arms across her chest as she stared at him, "but I'm going to take it to mean that you're a jerk."

"That's fine by me."

Standing side by side, Lea and Cheren couldn't look more different. There were the obvious differences, naturally: Lea was a girl while Cheren was a boy, and Lea was tall, with clear muscle definition in her arms and legs (standing at a proud 5'6"), whereas Cheren was short and slight (standing at a modest 5'1"). Cheren's skin was pale enough to sometimes be compared to that of the dead, whereas Lea usually sported a modest tan, earned from spending so much time out in the sun. Cheren's hair was black, short, and fine, whereas Lea's hair was brown, thick, and long. Cheren's eyes were pale grey, and Lea's were a strong blue.

But there were other differences, too, that didn't come from their physical appearance alone. Cheren dressed sharply. Despite the fact that he was only sixteen, he chose to wear blue, expensive shoes and black slacks, a taut black leather belt holding the slacks in place. His shirt was white with a red design down the front similar to a tie (most likely because Lea had teased him something fierce the time he decided to wear an _actual _tie), and his blue jacket – which matched his shoes – had a smart collar complete with cufflinks. His glasses, too, had red metal frames, pulling his entire outfit together. Cheren wasn't a businessman—he was a teenager—but he dressed as if he was ready to walk down Castelia City and enter the white collar job market.

Lea, on the other hand, dressed and acted every bit like the sixteen-year-old she was. Her thick hair was rarely combed properly, and she had it pulled through the back of a pink and white baseball cap sporting a pokèball logo. Her shirt was white and sleeveless, and her vest was sleeveless as well, though black in color. She wore black wristbands with a pink stripe on both wrists, and her blue jean shorts had holes in them, the pockets sticking out from the bottoms. Her socks didn't match—one was purple with lime green polka spots, and the other was yellow with orange stripes—and the very top of them could be seen out of her black high-tops, which were laced with hot pink laces. Whereas Cheren looked ready to enter Wall Street, Lea looked ready to party-crash a festive parade.

Despite their differences, however, when standing side by side, it was evident that there was something connecting them, too. Some sort of thread, something invisible, intangible, but definitely there . . .

"Lea, you _did _bathe today, didn't you?"

"Shut up, Cheren. Of course I did."

. . . even though they couldn't stop bickering.

"I was just making sure." Cheren looked at Lea's alarm clock, which was positioned on the floor by her bed, and – upon noticing that it was broken – checked his watch instead. "I wonder where Bianca is," he mused, and he tapped his foot a bit impatiently against Lea's messy floor. Despite the fact that she was chewing gum, Lea swiped a couple nachos off the plate on her dresser and popped them in her mouth. "She should have been here by now. Also, that's disgusting."

"Fwhat's difgufting?" Lea asked, around her mouthful of nachos. Cheren made a face of disgust and didn't bother to give a response. Of course, even if he had planned to verbally express his revulsion, he didn't get the chance; thundering footsteps sounded from the doorway, echoing down the hall, and a moment later Lea's bedroom door burst open with enough force to knock against the back wall. And as if the sound of the footsteps and the door banging open wasn't loud enough:

"SOOOORRRRYYYYY!"

Bianca Black's voice certainly was.

It was surprising, given that she was a relatively small statured, ladylike girl, but Bianca had a voice that could hit volumes louder than Lea's and pitches higher than an opera singer's when she wanted it to. Truly, she had a great voice, and both Lea and Cheren enjoyed hearing her sing, but sometimes, her sheer volume and shrill pitch could be deafening. This was one of those times, but in volume rather than pitch.

"Hehe, sorry." Bianca smiled sheepishly, and might've put a fist up to hide that smile if it wasn't for the blue box, tied together with green ribbon, that she was carrying in her arms. "I just wanted to apologize for being late, since I am. At least I'm not too late, though! At least, I hope I'm not. I just had a late start setting out for Professor Juniper's lab, and I got a bit caught up with playing with the baby patrat that she has there . . ."

Appearance wise, while Cheren and Lea were stark contrasts of each other, Bianca seemed to rest firmly in the middle in nearly every aspect. True, she shared some traits with her peers – she was, for example, a girl – but for the most part, Bianca sat dead center.

She was, for starters, the second oldest out of the three (with Cheren being the oldest, and Lea being the youngest). She was of average height (standing at 5'4"), and while she wasn't heavy, she had broad, sashaying hips. She had, as mentioned earlier, something of a ladylike dress; she wore a nice, conservative white dress which buttoned along the sides and fell to about two inches below her knees, leggings, flats, and a vest. Her manner of dress was quite conservative, and seemed more appropriate for a situation closer to Cheren's than Lea's.

That was, of course, until one managed to look past the articles themselves and instead look at the color scheme. While her dress was white, her leggings and vest were bright orange, and her flats were yellow, clashing with the orange parts of the rest of her outfit. Likewise, the hat that she had perched upon her short (yet thick) blonde hair was clover green with a white stripe, matching her smiling eyes. While she looked as though she could fit into a business situation with Cheren, she also looked as though she helped plan the parade that Lea decided to ambush, and could very well be dragged on top the nearest float without a moment's notice.

In other words, she formed the perfect balance between her two best friends, and the intangible link became all the more noticeable when the three of them were together. Lea, for her part, started beaming the second Bianca burst into her room, and even started to bounce a bit from foot to foot in excitement. While it could have merely been excitement to see her best friend, however—and while part of her smile certainly could be contributed to that—her eyes were riveted on the box Bianca held in her arms.

"Bianca . . ." Cheren looked as though he was about to scold her—perhaps for being late, perhaps for acting like a rampaging rhyhorn in the house—yet then sighed, and shook his head. "Whatever, it's fine. Is that the box of starter pokèmon from Professor Juniper?"

"Yes!" Bianca walked carelessly across the messy floor, carrying the precious box to Lea's desk. Naturally, there wasn't any room, but Lea—having about as much care for her homework as one would a pile of fallen leaves—shoved the papers onto the floor and moved her laptop back, creating just enough space for Bianca to set the box down. "She said there's one in here for each of us, and that we should come by the lab once we've made our decisions. I think she wants to see which ones we pick."

"Whatevs, whatevs, that's fine, I don't care!" Lea was still bouncing from foot to foot, and wiggled her fingers in claw like motions in front of the box, as if she was ready to tear it apart at any second. Her large, exuberant grin almost looked feral. "I'll go anywhere she wants! Let's just get that sucker open and get our first pokèmon! Dibs on first pick!" With that, Lea pounced for the box, claw-flexed fingers first. Before she could reach it, however, Bianca let out a gasp of denial, and quickly moved to shield the box with her body.

"No! Wait!"

"Huh?" Lea jerked back in a fashion that was almost comical, eyes wide, as Cheren adjusted his glasses and looked at Bianca curiously. While he didn't show his impatience in his expression, Lea did, her eyes and mouth settling into a pout. "Bi? What's up?"

"There's a card." Bianca turned, and pointed to a white envelope out from underneath the shiny green bow. Lea groaned in an exaggerated fashion and rolled her eyes, tossing her hands up into the air.

"So?"

"So, you always read the cards when someone gives you a gift! That way you know who to thank!"

"But I already _know_ who to thank, Bi! These pokèmon are coming straight from Juni-baby, right? So I'm going to thank _her_." Lea's voice was almost a whine, and while Bianca frowned a bit in uncertainty and twisted the green strap of her travel bag in her hands, Cheren rolled his eyes and carefully slipped the envelope out from under the green ribbon.

"Yes, but it's still basic courtesy to read a card before shredding a package like a starving purrloin."

"'It's still basic courtesy to read a card before shredding a package like a starving purrloin,'" Lea mocked underneath her breath. Bianca smiled faintly, and Cheren ignored her, instead slipping the card out of the envelope before he started to read it.

"'Dear Lea, Cheren, and Bianca,

"'Congratulations once more on graduating and passing the Pokèmon Trainer Certification Exam. I'm so proud to call you three my students, and watching you all grow over the past eleven years has been a truly rewarding experience for me as your teacher, even during the times when I thought my lab might never recover due to the damage caused.'" Cheren looked up at Lea with a pointed stare, but Lea feigned innocence with a wide-eyed look. Bianca giggled, and Cheren continued reading.

"'Inside the box are three pokèmon that I have carefully chosen to be your starters. Each has its own strengths and weaknesses, but all three create a careful elemental balance. Though all three of you have graduated, I want you to take one more lesson from this–'"

"One more lesson?" Lea cried, and then groaned, tossing her hands up in the air. "Really? No way am I doing more homework! We're supposed to be done!"

"She didn't say anything about homework, and out of the three of us, you're the one who could stand the most from learning something," Cheren snapped. "Now shut up and let me keep reading." Lea, knowing that he simply hated to be interrupted, stuck her tongue out at him and waved him on. Clearing his throat, he continued.

"'–I want you to take one more lesson from this, and that lesson is thus: balance and teamwork are the keys to success. Just like the pokèmon you three have to choose from, all three of you have your own strengths and weaknesses. None of you are better than the other two. In fact, when you three are together, _that _is when you truly shine. Never forget that in addition to having your own strength, as well as your own pokèmon, you three will also always have each other.

"'The three pokèmon that I have chosen for you are the grass-type, snivy; the fire-type, tepig; and the water-type, oshawott. I will leave it up to the three of you to decide who gets which one, and I'll trust you all not to fight over the decision. That means no bossing the other two around, Cheren,'" Lea shot a smug grin at Cheren, while Bianca hid her smile behind her fist, "'no wrestling the other two in order to get your way, Lea,'" Lea's smug smile fell, and Cheren picked it up instead, "'and no letting the other two make your decision for you, Bianca.'" Bianca smiled sheepishly, and nodded though the professor wasn't actually there to see it. "'I have the utmost faith that you three will be able to make this decision fairly, so please, don't prove me wrong.

"'When you've selected your pokèmon, please come to my lab. I'll be waiting. Professor Juniper.'" Cheren set the card aside, and Lea let out a long sigh of relief.

"Jeez, that was the longest thing I've ever had to listen to. I think it was even longer than the speech she gave us on the day we got our Licenses. How did she even fit that on one card?" Cheren picked up the card again, and held it out to Lea.

"You can read it for yourself if you'd like."

"Pass. When it comes to reading, comic books or bust. Anyway, since the card's done, we can finally pick our pokèmon, right? Right?" Lea danced from foot to foot again, and Cheren looked over to Bianca with a small grin.

"I don't know, perhaps we should send Professor Juniper a thank-you card first. What do you think, Bianca?" A dawning look of horror appeared on Lea's face as Bianca tapped a finger against her chin in speculation.

"That might be the best thing to do, I wouldn't want her to think us rude. Ooh, and I actually just bought some really cute stationary! It's back at my house, though, I'll have to run home and get it."

"NOPE! Nu-uh, no way, Josè! It's way too late for that business! Hiyah!" In a motion that looked not unlike a cat hopped up on speed shredding a particularly offending object, Lea pounced upon the box and began to shred it. Her nails weren't particularly long, but she was still able to tear through the ribbon and wrapping paper easily enough, throwing the trash down to mingle with the homework assignments, clothes, magazines, and other objects on her floor. Cheren sighed as she made her room an even bigger mess than it already was, especially as Lea pride off the box top and tossed it over her shoulder, where it landed on a wrinkled pair of jeans and a scarf. "There! All done! Box open!"

"You are a barbarian," Cheren said, but despite his words, he was smiling. Bianca was grinning as well, and Lea gave both of her friends a bared-tooth grin.

"Yeah, I know. But look! Pokèmon!" Lea looked down into the box, and Cheren and Bianca crowed in close around her, their gazes joining hers. Despite being such a large box, the contents were rather small: just three red and white, minimized pokèballs sitting in the very bottom, forming a small little V-shape, secured in place with styrofoam. Taped to each pokèball was a little name card, and labeled pictures sat inside the box as well, so that they could see what each pokèmon looked like before they made their decision. "I get to pick first, right?" Lea asked, and she was gripping the box so hard that she bent the corners. "I called dibs on that, right?"

"Well, it _is _your house," Bianca said good-naturedly, as Lea's smile grew. "So I think it's only fair that you get to pick first." Lea looked over at Cheren, whom she partly expected to refuse her request, but he smirked a little and shrugged.

"Naturally."

"Suh-weeet!" Lea sang, and swiped the box off her desk altogether. Without warning, she spun around and dumped the contents of the box onto her bare mattress, the pokèballs bouncing a little as they fell, the labeled pictures fluttering down in their own time.

"Lea!" Cheren admonished, as Bianca hurried over to look at the pictures and pokèballs. "What did you do that for? You could lose them."

"Oh, re_lax_, I'm not gonna lose 'em!" Lea crawled up onto her bed, and organized the three pokèballs in front of her. "See? They're right here. This one on the left is snivy, the one in the middle is tepig, and the one to the right is oshawott." She paused, and tilted her head to the side. "Or, I guess for you guys, oshawott is on the left and snivy's on the right. But it's whatevsies, right?"

Cheren muttered something beneath his breath that Lea didn't quite catch (but which she assumed was a comment about her troublesome nature, given that it was a favorite topic of his complaints), but Bianca nodded, and sat down on the edge of the bed.

"Yes, it's fine," she said pleasantly. Reaching out, she picked up the three pictures, and turned a bit so that Cheren and Lea could see them, as well. "It looks like these are the pokèmon we have to choose from. Oh, look at oshawott! He's so cute, isn't he?"

"Yeah, yeah, he's adorbs." Lea had glanced at the pictures briefly, yet had then looked back down at the pokèballs, staring intently. For Cheren's part, he could hardly remember her ever looking so deep in thought. Regardless, after a moment Lea looked back up, and without warning snatched the pictures out of Bianca's hand.

"H-Hey!"

"Sorry, Bi, I'll give 'em back in a second." She stared at them for a moment before setting them down in front of the pokèballs, yet facing her. "Okay. So it looks like we've get snivy, tepig, and oshawott."

"Yes, Lea. We knew that already," Cheren said, a bit mockingly. Lea stuck her tongue out at him, yet then looked back down at the photographs.

"Snivy could be cool, because he's a total smug snake. Just look at 'im! I'd name him Liquid. Doesn't he make you think of Liquid Snake?" Lea looked back up at Cheren and Bianca, the former of which had actually played the game Lea was referencing, the latter of which had watched Lea play. "He could totally prance-dance on top of some banisters in some top secret military facility or something. Don'tcha think?"

"Not really," Cheren said, and Lea mocked him once more (silently, this time) before she looked back down at the pictures.

"So, snivy could be cool. It'd be kickin' to have Liquid on my team. But then there's oshawott—and if we wanted to keep getting all Steel Gear up in here, we could totally call him Revolver Oshawott. Wouldn't that be cool? Huh?!" Once again, Lea looked excitedly up at her best friends, but while Bianca gave her a small smile, Cheren just gave her a flat stare. Lea's smile fell, and then she shrugged. "Well, but he doesn't exactly look like Revolver Oshawott. He looks too woobie-ish for that. So maybe he could be . . . uh . . . jeez, I don't know. I guess I'm not picking oshawott, then.

"So that just leaves us with tepig, the little fire piggy." Lea grinned. "A fire piggy. How cool is that? I mean, sure, it makes you think of bacon, but c'mon! He's a fire piggy! You could be all, 'go, fire piggy!' whenever you wanted to battle with him! And—!" Lea suddenly gasped, eyes wide. "Better than that! Who's the best fire piggy you know, huh? Who's the biggest, baddest fire piggy of them all?!"

"I haven't the foggiest," Cheren said. His expression suggested he clearly wanted her to hurry up. Bianca put her finger to her chin in thought for a moment before she shrugged.

"I . . . don't know, Lea."

"_Ganon_! Duh! Ganon is totally the biggest, baddest fire piggy in the world!" Lea picked up tepig's pokèball, and held it up above her head in a gesture of triumph. "He's the King of Evil! The Lord of Darkness! And he shall be mine—he shall be my fire piggy! And together, we will rampage about the countryside! Aww yeah!"

"Congratulations on your future rampage," Cheren said dryly. He had his arms folded across his chest and was beginning to tap his fingers against his arms, but all the same, he turned to catch Bianca's eye, and then nodded his head toward the pokèballs. "Bianca, you can choose next."

"Huh? Are you sure?" Bianca's eyes drifted briefly to Cheren's fingers, tapping so impatiently against his arms. "You can go next, if you want! I don't mind waiting!" Cheren shook his head.

"No. You should get to choose next." When she still hesitated, he added, "The longer you hesitate, the longer I have to wait." Her eyes widened, and she quickly dove to scoop up the pictures of the two remaining pokèmon.

"Oh! Sorry!" While Bianca stared back and forth between snivy and oshawott's pictures, Lea made a face at Cheren.

"Jeez, Cherry-berry, you don't have to be so uptight about it. And you don't have to try to rush Bi, either."

"If you were the one waiting, you would be acting far worse than I am, _Whitlea_," Cheren retorted. Lea's eyes narrowed as Bianca stuck the tip of her tongue out of the corner of her mouth.

"Don't call me 'Whitlea,' Cheren." Cheren glared right back.

"Then don't call me 'Cherry-berry,' Lea."

"I've decided!" Bianca's clear voice drew their attention away from their glaring contest, and both Cheren and Lea looked over to see Bianca scoop up oshawott's pokèball. "I think I'm going to choose this little darling, and I'm going to name him Wotter. Isn't that a cute name? I think it's an absolutely perfect name for my little Wotter, oh yes I do." As Bianca delved into baby-speak to communicate with her oshawott through its pokèball (something that caused Lea to make a face of disgust, similar to Cheren's reaction to gum-plus-nachos earlier), Cheren reached down and picked up snivy's pokèball, a little smile playing on his face.

"Excellent. I wanted snivy, anyway." Examining the gender marker on the name card before pulling it off, he added, "I'll name her Nagini."

"Awesome sauce. So!" Lea bounded off her bed, upsetting the pictures and discarded name tags, and looked at her two best friends, practically brimming with excitement. "Who's up for a battle?!"

"Ooh, I am!" Bianca bounded up as well, her green bag swinging around her, and Cheren gave them both an unimpressed stare.

"Hold it. Do you really think it's all right to battle here?"

"Sure, why not?" Lea shrugged, and before Cheren could open his mouth, she said, "Oh, don't worry about my Mom. She's downstairs watching her soaps or whatever. She probably won't even notice!"

"That's not what I was concerned about." Cheren sighed. "Lea, if you would, please take a look at your bedroom."

Lea did as requested. She took in every aspect, from the whirlwind of clothes to the potentially empty soda cans that lined the various surfaces. After a moment, she looked back to Cheren with a blank stare. "Yeah? So?"

"Your room is a disaster area," Cheren said flatly, and he folded his arms across his chest, Nagini's pokèball held between two long fingers. "I actually think that it might be a biohazard zone and that we should wear haz-mat suits. There's no _space _for a battle here."

"Psh, there's plenty of space. Here, I'll even clean up a bit, if it makes you happy." As she spoke, Lea moved to "clean up" as she said she would. However, Lea's brand of cleaning involved kicking the papers and clothes nearby under her bed, and grabbing another armful of clothes off the floor and slinging them toward the wicker hamper in the corner. As Cheren continued to give her a flat stare (and Bianca giggled behind her head), Lea rolled her eyes in an exaggerated fashion and dragged the wicker hamper—losing clothes in the process—over to her closet (which was already quite full with sports equipment—roller blades, hockey sticks, baseball gloves, soccer balls—and other random items), so that she could cram it in. Once it was in enough, Lea forced the closet door shut, and then turned to Cheren with a bold grin, her hands fisted on her hips. "There! Done! All clean!"

"You call _this_ clean?" he demanded in a deadpan voice. Before she could answer, he sighed. "Never mind. Don't answer that. I know you do. I guess, in regards to making space for a battle, this is a . . . _bit _better."

"Exactly! So c'mon, Bi!" Lea skipped over to the middle of the room, pressing the center button on Ganon's pokèball twice. Her tepig materialized in the middle of the room, let out an excited oink, and wagged its corkscrew tail. "Let's battle!"

"Okay!" Bianca bounced over to stand opposite Lea, and—just like her best friend—pressed the center button on her pokèball twice to summon her oshawott to the floor. Wotter tossed his scallop from paw to paw, looking curiously around the room, his large red nose sniffing the air. Lea grinned, and without warning shouted:

"Ganon! Tackle!"

"Huh? Oh, no—Wotter, dodge!" Bianca cried. Wotter, thankfully, was on top of things, and dove out of the way as Ganon threw himself forward. Despite being decidedly pudgier than Wotter, Ganon managed to recover quickly, and spun on the spot in time for Lea to yell:

"Keep on keepin' on, Ganon! Tackle, Tackle, Tackle!"

"Wotter, don't let it hit you! Oh, and, um, Tackle back!"

The "battle" ended up being less of a battle, and more of a lengthy game of tag. Ganon chased Wotter around the room, tackling whenever he got near, and while Ganon regained his balance, Wotter tried to steal his chance to attack in turn. In the end, the battle only ended when Ganon landed a successful hit that sent Wotter careening into the dresser, which knocked Lea's plate of nachos onto the floor. The plate shattered, and both Ganon and Wotter made cries of surprise and darted away, Bianca hastily running forward to scoop Wotter into her arms.

"Oh no, Wotter, are you okay?" Bianca carefully looked her oshawott over for injuries, only relaxing when she saw that there was no real damage. "Oh, good. You're not hurt. I'm so glad!"

"I told you battling in here was a bad idea," Cheren said, his tone flat. Despite the fact that both girls had wanted to battle, his displeasure seemed primarily aimed at Lea, who recalled Ganon into his pokèball after ensuring that he, too, was all right. Lea gave him a flat look.

"Are you really gonna start in with the 'I Told You Sos,' Captain Buzzkill? 'Cause I really don't wanna hear 'em. It's fine." Cheren's eyes flicked down to the shattered nacho plate, and Lea looked at it as well, shrugging. "Well, yeah, that broke. But that's cool, 'cause I was kinda over those nachos, anyway."

"That's not the point," Cheren said as Lea's bedroom door opened again. This time, Lea's mother stood in the doorway, and from a single glance it was obvious where Lea got her features from (even though Lea had a sharper jaw and a more toned body, the former of which was inherited from her father, the latter built up from years of burning off energy). Still, while Lea was still young and hyper and active, her mother had an expression aged with maturity and weariness. Her eyes were certainly her sharpest feature, and the moment the door opened they zeroed in on the broken plate and spilled nachos.

"Whitlea Fiona Fair, what exactly are you doing up here?"

"Battling," Lea answered promptly. She was never the type to lie unless it was to cover Cheren or Bianca, and the excuses she usually did come up with weren't ever very good, anyway. Her mother sighed. "Bi and I decided to battle with our new pokèmon, and guess what? I _totally _won!"

"Only because the plate broke," Bianca said, and while Lea sounded like a five year old with a new toy, Bianca seemed to be pouting a bit jokingly, herself. "If the battle had continued, I would have kicked your butt, Lea!"

"Nu-uh," Lea said, and Bianca – certainly smiling, now – opened her mouth to possibly continue the childish argument when Lea's mother interrupted.

"It doesn't matter who won. What does matter is that you broke one of my dishes, Lea. _Again_." Lea looked back to her mother, who was fixing her with a stern stare, and grinned—and for once, she had the decency to make her grin a bit apologetic.

"Yeah, I do that a lot, huh? Sorry, Mom. But on the plus side, I'm totally awesome when it comes to battling! So I can just win a bunch of battles, get some prize money, and buy you some new dishes. Piece of cake."

Lea's mother sighed, and shook her head. "No, no, Lea. Don't worry about it." Her tone suggested they'd had this talk plenty of times, and that she'd believe Lea's claims when she saw them come to life. "Here, why don't you three come downstairs? You're all set to leave soon, and I took the liberty of packing your bag last night, Lea. It's all ready to go."

"You did?" Lea stared at her mother in amazement, and looked around. "Cleaned up" though her room was, it still looked like the crash site of a few freight trains, and she tilted her head in bewilderment. "Really? What did you pack in it? I don't even see a difference."

"You wouldn't," Cheren muttered, and Lea reached over to smack him on the shoulder as her mother shook her head.

"I packed the essentials. You'll want to travel light, after all. Just come on downstairs. I'll clean up that mess in a minute."

"Mrs. Fair, are you sure you don't want us to clean it?" Bianca asked, and she returned Wotter to his pokèball to free up her hands, thereafter stowing his 'ball in her bag. "It was our battle that broke the plate, after all . . . I'm really sorry."

"I'm sorry, too," Cheren said, and he bowed once. "We should have known better. If you need new dishes, I'm sure we can all pitch in to buy new ones." Bianca nodded fervently.

"Yes, we definitely can!"

"No, don't worry about it." Lea's mother smiled faintly. "Trust me, one broken plate isn't going to prevent me from eating. Besides, you all just got your pokèmon; I know how excited you are." She gave her daughter a weary look. "You especially. You're excitable enough ordinarily. Now that you have a pokèmon . . ."

"A fire piggy," Lea said. Though she should have shared the same shame that her two best friends did—and she did, to some extent—she seemed more inclined to focus on the highlight of her day. "I picked tepig, Mom—the fire piggy!" Lea's mother groaned.

"The fire-type? Perfect. I _definitely _want you out, then." She motioned them to follow her, and – Lea and Cheren stuffing their pokèballs into their pockets – the trio finally followed. "For the last time, come on. You're wasting daylight, and I want you three to be able to reach Accumula Town before dark."

The Fair household wasn't particularly large, but it was still a split level home. The stairs entered into the living room, where the television set was set to a soap opera of some sort (as Lea had predicted), and a red messenger bag sat on the couch. Lea's mother entered the living room first, and grabbed the messenger bag to pass to Lea, who slung it across her chest and shoulders. Her mother then held out a X-transceiver, which she snapped onto her wrist.

"Make sure to keep that charged, Lea," her mother told her firmly. "You need to be able to call for help if you get into trouble, and I don't want to call you only to find out that the battery is dead when I try." Lea rolled her eyes.

"I will, Mom, sheesh! You've told me all this stuff about a gajillion times before—"

"That isn't a number," Cheren said.

"—and I don't need to hear it now, again, for the trajillionth time. Besides, Professor Juniper had us learn survival training and stuff, right? I can even cook now! So I'll be fine."

"I wouldn't exactly call what you do 'cooking,'" her mother said, and her lopsided grin—so much like her daughter's—held a hint of teasing. "Setting a packet of ramen to boil for three minutes isn't cooking."

"Psh. It's food, and I make it, so that makes it cooking." As if she could sense Cheren's look of disapproval behind her, she said loudly, "It's totally a consumable item that nourishes you and keeps you from starving and stuff, Cheren! That makes it food!"

"You know the word 'consumable?'" Cheren's tone was laced with mock surprise, and both Lea's mother and Bianca laughed as Lea puffed out her cheeks in irritation. "I'm impressed. I'll have to let Professor Juniper know so that she can give you a gold star."

Lea swung around and kicked Cheren in the leg, and though he hissed in pain, he retaliated by shoving Lea into the end table, which caused the lamp to shake precariously on its stand. As Lea drew back her fist to swing at Cheren again (Bianca wisely getting out of the way, being all too used to this), Lea's mother grabbed her daughter's wrist, giving her daughter a firm look.

"Lea, if I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times. No roughhousing in the house."

"But _Mom_, the word 'house' is in 'roughhousing'! It should be totally legit to roughhouse in here!" Lea whined. "Besides, Cheren started it."

"Did not," Cheren muttered, though it was a bit immature of him. Lea grinned, and her mother released her wrist.

"The three of you are responsible for every single gray hair I have," she sighed, but then paused and looked over at Bianca. "Well, not Bianca as much." Bianca smiled, and curtsied.

"Thank you, ma'am!"

"Yeah, yeah, Bi's totally an angel baby," Lea said, waving the complaints off. Bianca wasn't quite sure what being an "angel baby" entailed, but she knew Lea well enough to know that nothing bad was meant by it. "Anyway, we're gonna take off, okay? We have to go see Professor Juniper, and then we're gonna hit the road."

"Not so fast," her mother said, and Lea groaned, large and exaggerated. "And don't be like that either, Lea. Cheren and Bianca have to say goodbye to their parents, too." Lea blinked, caught a bit off-guard, looking for all the world like that thought honestly hadn't occurred to her. In all actuality, it hadn't. Cheren, however, nodded when she looked over at him.

"I was planning on stopping by my house before we headed to the laboratory, if it was all right with you." He paused. "Well, actually, I was going to do it whether it was all right with you or not."

"Me too," Bianca said, and she smiled a bit nervously as she fiddled with her bag strap again. "I figure, well, we're going to be leaving right after we see Professor Juniper, right? So we should say goodbye while we can." Lea thought for a moment, and then nodded.

"Yeah, that seems like a good idea. Otherwise your parents'll probably freak and stuff." She looked back to her mother. "So, yeah. We're gonna go to Cheren's house, and then Bi's house, and _then_ Professor Juni-baby's lab, and _then_ we're _finally _gonna hit the road. That's the master plan."

Her mother smiled. "That sounds like a good plan." She hesitated a moment, and then put her hands on her daughter's shoulders. "You know, even though you've studied for this for the past eleven years, somehow it still feels so surreal. I always knew you'd leave on a journey someday—in fact, I hoped you would, so you could learn about the world. But still . . . it feels so strange to think that you won't be here when I wake up tomorrow, or the day after, or even the day after that."

"Mom . . ." Lea shifted uncomfortably on the spot. "Do we have to do all this wishy-washy, sippy-sappy junk right now? I'd kinda rather do it half-past never." Her mother laughed.

"I know you would, but yes, we do." She pulled her daughter into a tight hug, which Lea had enough sense to reciprocate. "Be safe, all right? I know you're going to travel the entire region, and by Arceus I know you're going to make a mess of it as you do, but I still want you to come back in one piece, you hear me? _One _piece. Not several."

"I will, I will!" Lea squirmed out of the hug, and brushed herself off, as if the hug had contaminated her. Fortunately, her mother saw the humor in it, and her smile didn't fade. "But now we've really gotta go, okay? For seriously. Cheren, Bi? Let's bounce!"

"'Let's bounce'? Who says that anymore, Lea?" Cheren demanded, though he did turn toward Lea's mother long enough to say, "Goodbye, Mrs. Fair," before he continued to follow Lea out of the front door. Lea scoffed.

"I do. Who're you to talk about what's current slang-wise, Mr. I'm-So-Uptight-I-Wear-A-Shirt-That-Looks-Like-It-Has-A-Tie-On-It?"

"This shirt is classy. Just because you lack class to the point where even an 'F' would be too high a mark for you . . ."

Cheren and Lea's bickering continued out of the door, though Bianca lingered behind, looking back to Lea's mother. Perhaps before she could change her mind, she darted forward and gave Lea's mother a hug, which the other woman reciprocated warmly.

"Bye, Mrs. Fair," Bianca said, yet then seemed to think better of it, and shook her head as she drew away. "No—see you later. Because I _will _see you later—we all will."

"You'd better," Lea's mother said, but her smile took off any edge that might've been on her words. "Keep an eye on that rambunctious daughter of mine, would you?" Bianca laughed.

"I'll do my best!"

"BI! C'mon, hurry up! We've still gotta get to Cherry-berry's house!" The sound of a smack followed Lea's words, which was punctuated with a cry of, "OW!" from Lea, and then followed by the sounds of a scuffle. Bianca shook her head, and tugged her hat down to shield her a face a bit.

"Well, maybe it'll take more than my best . . ."

"Maybe," Lea's mother agreed, "but your best is all you can do." With that, she gave Bianca a light, motivating push to the door, and though Bianca turned in the doorway to wave, she quickly darted out, shutting Lea's front door behind her.

Nuvema Town was, at its heart, the epitome of a small town. Not many people lived there, and the largest building in town was easily the laboratory, which was visible no matter which street you were on due to the fact that it rested at the top of a small hill. All of the other buildings were small houses—even the general and grocery stores, which imported their wares from the larger cities around Unova. There were no concrete streets—only dirt roads, lined with brightly green grass, and vividly painted houses. For though Nuvema Town was small, it didn't look old; the presence of a general store operating out of an old house instead of a larger chain mart aside, the townspeople put effort into keeping the buildings looking fresh and modern, and staying up to date with the rest of the region as far as technology went. In addition, due to being such a small town, everyone knew everyone else, and as such, they looked out for each other, even if they didn't like each other much.

Fortunately, not liking each other much wasn't a problem most of the townspeople had.

The sun was bright that afternoon, and so Bianca squinted a bit as she stepped down from Lea's porch, only to find that Lea was holding Cheren's wrists apart, much to his consternation. Her friends broke apart as she drew near, and she grinned at them, looking over at Cheren. "We're going to your house first, right, Cheren?" He nodded, and Lea tilted her head.

"Hey, you know, it's kinda early in the afternoon. Will your parents even be home?" Cheren adopted that odd look he sometimes got whenever she referred to the couple who'd adopted him as his parents, but nodded nonetheless.

"Yes. They've been working from home all this week since they knew I'd be leaving today. They should be there if we check in." Lea nodded.

"All righty, then. Let's go!"

The trio walked in comfortable silence to Cheren's house, which was just down the road from Lea's. It was funny, in a way; Lea's house was at one end of the street, Cheren's was at the other, and Bianca's was on the next street over, dead center between their two homes. It was funny how those things worked out, though it was highly likely that not a single member of the trio – not even Cheren – would recognize it.

Cheren led the way up the red wooden steps of his home, reaching automatically for the door handle as he did so. It was midday, and so the door wasn't locked, and as such it opened with a simple twist. Habitually, Cheren wiped his feet on the doormat before he entered, and Bianca did the same, Cheren blocking Lea's path until she followed suit. By this point, however, he didn't have to; Lea had been to Cheren's house enough times over the past eleven years to know how it was: spic, span, and spotless.

And honestly, it was. Lea's home was filled with hardwood flooring and area rugs, but Cheren's was filled with plush white carpeting that looked as though it had never seen a single stain. The furniture was covered by plastic covers, or else dotted with coasters for the surfaces, and the house perpetually smelled like flowers and cleaner. Any wooden surface gleamed when the light hit it, and the light bulbs were usually flesh and and almost blinding. Cheren's house was certainly larger than Lea's, too, which was a bit odd, considering most of the houses in Nuvema Town were the same size, and only three people lived in Cheren's home. Still, though his house was nice, Lea had to admit that something about it always did make her feel a bit uncomfortable. It was simply _too _clean.

"I'm home," Cheren called, walking toward the kitchen (though he stayed on the linoleum in the hallway, knowing better than to trek across the living room's carpet with his shoes). Lea and Bianca followed suit as a light female voice called:

"Oh, Cheren—we're in the kitchen!"

"I gathered."

Where Lea's kitchen was a bit on the small side, Cheren's kitchen was wide and open, and – as always – the gleaming countertops and bright lights hurt Lea's eyes a little as they entered. Cheren's adoptive mother was standing over by the counter top, slicing carrots, as his adoptive father sat at the kitchen table, working on a laptop. Both parents looked up as the trio of teens entered, though Cheren – rather than looking at either of them – headed straight to the back of the room to grab his laptop case from the back of a chair.

"Did you already receive your first pokèmon?" Cheren's mother asked mildly. She didn't look up from chopping her carrots, and Cheren's father – after waving to the girls – looked back down at his laptop. Cheren adjusted the strap of his laptop case so that he could comfortably carry it, and then nodded, not looking at either of his parents.

"Yes. I did. I chose snivy, a grass-type."

"That's good, dear." His mother finished chopping the carrots and put them into a bowl, thereafter reaching for some parsnips, and Lea and Bianca exchanged uncomfortable looks. "So . . . will you be leaving town after you visit with Professor Juniper, then?"

"Yes."

"I . . . see." More uncomfortable silence followed as his mother began chopping the parsnips, her hands moving a bit more quickly and clumsily than perhaps they ought to, and Lea could tell by the way Cheren gripped the strap on his laptop case that he felt uncomfortable as well. He cleared his throat.

"Well, we should be going then. Goodbye—I'll see you when I return."

"Take care," his mother called, and his father finally looked up from his laptop screen.

"Make us proud," he said. "You always do." Cheren nodded.

"I will." Cheren looked to Lea and Bianca, then, and motioned back down the hallway. "Come on. We should go."

"Right." Lea led the way down the hallway and was the first to exit the house, taking a big gulp of fresh air as she jogged down the wooden steps. Cheren's house really was too clean for her tastes—far too sterile. And in a way, so was his relationship with his parents, right down to the fact that he rarely referred to them as such himself. They were lovely people, and they treated Cheren with kindness—they practically let him do whatever he wanted without question. But there was no warmth there, no solidarity, and it always made Lea feel awkward in their presence, like her every move would be frowned upon.

Well, her every move was frowned upon generally, but it just felt _awkward _there.

In any case, she was free of that house once more, and any tension the three had gained while within it melted away once they were back outside. "To Bi's house next, right?" Lea asked, and without waiting for an answer, punched her fist into the air. "Yep, to Bi's house! Race ya there!" With that, she took off at a sprint, cutting across lawns in order to get to Bianca's house. She was easily the fastest of the three, but that didn't mean the other two would give up. Indeed, after sharing a look of exasperation with Bianca, Cheren took off running after Lea, determined to give it his all despite his short legs. As such, neither of them noticed that Bianca looked less than thrilled about visiting her home, and that she didn't put much effort into running even as she hiked up her dress to follow after.

Bianca's house was far more picturesque than Lea's or Cheren's. Its wooden steps and railings were painted a pristine white, and they had a swing on their front porch, where the three would often sit as kids, eating popsicles or drinking lemonade. It, too, was a split level home, painted light blue with dark gray shutters, and as they neared, Bianca jogged up the steps before them, and turned to stop them from entering.

"Um, guys?" she said, and her voice was a bit higher-pitched with her nervousness. Cheren raised his eyebrows, and Lea blinked. "I think I'll go in alone, okay? It's just—I kind of—I might be awhile, because of Daddy."

"What about your father?" Cheren asked, tilting his head to the side. Lea twisted her lips in thought for a second and canted her weight, speaking before Bianca could.

"You didn't tell 'im yet, didja?" Bianca looked away guiltily, and Cheren's eyes widened.

"You didn't tell him? Why?"

"It just never seemed like the right time!" Bianca all but wailed, tossing her hands into the air. She then quickly returned them to her bag strap, nervously twisting it in her hands. "I thought—well, you know, Daddy's never been very keen on me studying to become a Pokèmon Trainer. He always said he just let me attend classes so that I wouldn't feel left out. Did you know, he even told Mom not to pay to let me take the exam for my License. She did it anyway using money out of her savings account so that he wouldn't notice." Bianca hung her head miserably. "I meant to tell him before today, honest—I meant to tell him once I found out I passed the test and was getting my License. But I just . . . I don't know. Everything happened so fast. I didn't realize it would be today until it _was_today."

Cheren and Lea exchanged looks before Lea looked back to Bianca. "Bi, are you _sure _you don't want us to come in? We can be pretty kickass awesome moral support when we wanna be, I'm just saying."

"I even promise to keep Lea on a short leash," Cheren said, and Lea smacked his arm. For once, he didn't retaliate. Bianca smiled weakly, and shook her head.

"No. I'm—I'm sure I'll be all right. Daddy would get upset if I brought you two in, anyway. He'd think I was making an audience." She threw her shoulders back, and took a deep breath. "Well, I'm—I'm going to go tell him, now. Wish me luck?"

"Only the best of," Cheren said, and Lea held out her hand.

"Good luck high-five!" she said, and Bianca – laughing a little – raised her hand up to smack her palm against Lea's. Lea brought her hand back with a fingersnap, which Bianca mimicked. "All right! You're all set to go, Bi!"

"Thanks, Lea. And Cheren, too." Bianca took another deep breath, and then turned back toward the door. "I'll be out again right quick, okay?" Though this was in contrast to her earlier words, neither Lea nor Cheren argued it, and Bianca disappeared into the house. In her haste to make it inside, she left the door slightly ajar, and Lea – seeing an opportunity – moved closer to crouch down near the frame. She could practically feel Cheren's disapproval burning into the back of her head.

"Lea."

"What? I'm not going inside, I just wanted to listen, so shush." Lea leaned closely to the slightly open front door, and despite the disapproval he'd shown, Cheren moved close so that he could do the same. At first, they didn't hear anything, but after a moment they heard some muted arguing, and finally the shouting began.

"NO! No, no, no, NO, absolutely NOT!"

"Jeez, Bi's dad is even louder than me," Lea muttered, and Cheren nodded grimly.

"Daddy, why not?" Bianca's voice was loud, as well, and was starting to get shrill—it was also slightly choked, as if she was holding back tears. Lea scowled, and Cheren, she noted, was wearing his Not Pleased face. "I went to school, and I passed all the tests, and I got my License, too! I even have my own pokèmon! And Cheren and Lea are both going, and–"

"Oh, so this is all that Lea's fault, is it? I shouldn't be surprised!" Lea's scowl darkened, but Cheren laid a hand on her arm to stop her from going inside. "That girl has been a bad influence from day one, and I will NOT have my daughter risking her life because some vagabond rapscallion from across the street–"

"She's not a vagabond, she's not a rapscallion, and she doesn't live across the street, she lives behind us!" Bianca shouted. Her voice was certainly shrill now, getting close to glass-shattering levels. "She's my best friend, and Cheren is, too! And they're both going on journeys with their pokèmon, and so I wanna go on a journey with mine! Mom already said it was okay!"

"She WHAT?!"

"She did! And so I'm going, and there's nothing you can do to stop me!" Quick footsteps followed those words, and Lea and Cheren hastily scrambled back, trying to look as though they'd been waiting on the edge of the porch instead of right by the door. Just as they made it to the railing, Bianca burst through the door, and she looked at them both in startled surprise, as if she'd forgotten they were there. Her green eyes were wet.

"Oh, Lea, Cheren, I guess you . . . um . . ." She wiped at her eyes, and then forced a big smile. "It's okay! It's fine, really, I'm fine! We should probably go see Professor Juniper."

"Yeah, before your dad runs out here breathing fire and rampaging like Charzilla." Cheren smacked Lea's arm, and Lea looked over at him with an affronted look. "What? It's true! I could practically hear him spitting fire from out here!"

"Whitlea." Cheren's stare was firm, but Bianca laughed, and took each of her friend's hands in her own. Her hands were shaking a little, and though neither was aware the other was doing (or perhaps they were), Cheren and Lea gave her hands gentle squeezes.

"No, it's okay, really. Thank you, guys." Bianca's voice was sincere, and coated in gratitude. "Let's go see Professor Juniper; I feel just awful for keeping her waiting for so long." Lea put on her trademark grin, not that it was hard; she'd been riding a high ever since she received Ganon, and that—combined with the fact that she could tell Bianca didn't want to dwell on what just happened—sealed her mood.

"All right, let's go!" She pointed her free hand to the sky in a dramatic point, and put on her best superhero voice. "To Juni-baby's lab!" Taking the lead once more, she tugged Bianca (and therefore, Cheren) back down the steps just as more shouting rang out from Bianca's house, this time through an open window. It was her father, again, this time yelling at her mother, and though Bianca bit her lip and shut her eyes tightly, Lea and Cheren managed to guide her quickly along the path, looping back to cut through yards as they made their way to the professor's laboratory.

Simply calling the laboratory a laboratory was not entirely accurate. Though the large building was known all throughout Nuvema Town—and quite possibly throughout Unova as a whole—as Professor Juniper's laboratory, it was also her home. The grand building, set up on a slight incline, primarily did function as a lab; but a half-spiral staircase hidden behind a door in the back of the lab led up to an apartment, which took up the entire second floor. In any case, as the trio of teenagers walked up the steps, Lea craned her head back to try and get a glimpse in through the upper story windows, to see if Professor Juniper was up there, or down on the lower level.

"She's going to be where she always is, Lea," Cheren said, knowing exactly what Lea was doing without her having to explain, by virtue of the fact that she did it every single time. "She's expecting us, so she won't be up there."

"Doesn't hurt to check," Lea said, shrugging. "'Sides, it just kills me. Why can't we go up there, huh? We're her students! That makes us, like, her apprentices. We should totally get to see the Zubat Cave!"

"If you want to see a zubat cave, go to Kanto, Johto, Hoenn, or Sinnoh," Cheren said, knowing just enough about comics (through osmosis, from being friends with Lea) to know what she meant, yet choosing to ignore it regardless. "There are plenty of them there. You don't need to see Professor Juniper's private quarters." He was the one to reach out and open the door, and it was only then that the three of them stopped holding hands, filing in one by one into the lab.

"Except I totally _do_ need to, because the suspense is _killing _me," Lea said, walking backwards into the front entrance room of the lab. The lab was just as shiny and clean as Cheren's home, yet in a different way; the polished tile floors and shiny metal surfaces didn't seem unnaturally shiny, and as such, they didn't hurt Lea's eyes. The entrance room was primarily free of the heavier research, only boasting a few tables with various clipboards and other research materials on them, and a few paintings on the wall. A potted plant was in one corner. Three rooms branched off from the main room, with the door to the right leading to the classroom, the door to the left leading to a series of interlocked rooms where various aides researched, and the door to the front leading to Professor Juniper's main lab, as well as a few other rooms branching off here or there with different research samples contained within. Ordinarily, the three teens would go straight to the classroom, but this time was different, and as such, Lea cupped her hands around her mouth. "PROFESSOR JUNIPER! WE'RE HERE AND STUFF!"

Bianca winced a little due to Lea's shout, which was made even louder by an echo effect. Cheren scowled, rubbing at one of his ears. "Holy mother of Mew, Whitlea. That was completely unnecessary."

"Says you, Cherry-berry. I don't wanna wait around all day, and this way, she can hear us."

"No, I agree with Cheren, Lea. That was completely unnecessary, because I was just finishing some work up in the next room. Just because you graduated doesn't mean the Indoor Voice Rule is completely null and void, you know."

The three teens turned to find Professor Juniper standing in the doorway, her arms crossed, an amused smile quirking her lips. Her dark green eyes, which were usually scolding when they fell on Lea, were alight with mirth, and her coffee colored hair was done up in a beehive bun on her head. Despite the admonishment, Lea grinned, and Bianca offered a friendly wave.

"Hi, Professor Juniper! Sorry we took so long!"

"There's no need to worry about it, Bianca. You three, come on back." Professor Juniper turned and walked back into her main lab, heading past the various test tubes and blinking monitors to walk to the desk set in the very back of the room. Though she knew she wasn't supposed to run in the lab, Lea charged ahead of Bianca and Cheren anyway, with Bianca half-running to keep up, and Cheren keeping a more sedate pace behind them. Professor Juniper turned to face them once she reached her desk, and when she saw that none of them had their chosen pokèmon out, she gestured impatiently to them with her hands.

"Well? Come on, let's see 'em! Which ones did you pick?" Bianca rummaged around in her bag for her pokèball while Cheren and Lea pulled theirs easily out of their pockets, and together, the three teens summoned their pokèmon to the floor.

"I picked oshawott, see? I named him Wotter." Bianca scooped Wotter up off the ground, almost causing him to drop his scallop. He huffed in irritation, but nonetheless snuggled against her chest. Lea flashed Professor Juniper a thumbs-up.

"The fire piggy was best in my book, Juni-baby. I'm callin' him Ganon." Her tepig snorted in approval, corkscrew tail bobbing against the floor. Cheren merely canted his weight to one side, his snivy curling around his ankle.

"That left me with snivy, which would have been my choice regardless. I call her Nagini."

"Excellent. I thought those would be your picks." Professor Juniper beamed at them, and leaned forward to whisper conspiratorially, "I actually made a bet with one of my aides about which one each of you would pick, and since I was correct, I just won one hundred and fifty pokèdollars."

"You bet on us?" Cheren asked flatly, as Bianca's eyes widened and Lea held up her hand for a high-five.

"Way to go, Juni-baby! That's what I'm talking about! Score those big bucks!" Professor Juniper returned the high-five with good humor, and straightened back up to address them at a normal volume.

"Well, anyway. I'm glad to see that you and your pokèmon seem to be getting along so well! I had full confidence in you three as Trainers. And actually, that being said, there's something that I wish to give you all."

"The Pokèdex, right?" Cheren asked, as Professor Juniper turned back to her desk. She paused, and then looked back at him with a small sigh.

"You have to take the surprise out of everything, don't you, Cheren? You're as over-prepared as always."

"I wouldn't say over-prepared. I prefer to call him a Grumpy Gus," Lea said, and Cheren rolled his eyes. Professor Juniper smiled.

"Well, whatever you wish to call him, I'll just go ahead and call him correct. Yes, Cheren, I wish to give you each your very own Pokèdex. Lea, Bianca, I trust you both remember what these are?"

"They're electronic encyclopedias, right?" Bianca asked, taking hers from Professor Juniper as Cheren and Lea did the same. "They were created by . . . um . . . by Professor . . ."

"Oak," Cheren supplied, slipping his into his back pocket. "The Pokèdex was created seven years ago by world-renowned pokèmon researcher Professor Oak, who hails from Pallet–"

"YAWN," Lea said loudly, cutting him off. "BOOORING. No one asked for a history lesson, Cheren!" Holding her own Pokèdex in her hand, Lea frowned at Professor Juniper. "Hey, Juni-baby, this sounds an awful lot like homework, so, uh, I don't really need one, you can take this–"

"It's not homework, you're keeping it, and if you complain about it I'm going to revoke your nicknaming privileges," Professor Juniper warned. Lea frowned, thinking that it was decidedly unfair, but stuck her Pokèdex into one of the side pockets of her bag regardless. "Both Bianca and Cheren are correct. The Pokèdex is an electronic encyclopedia that will automatically update with information on pokèmon that you see or catch. It's an invaluable resource for any aspiring Pokèmon Trainer, but not every Trainer gets one, so the three of you should feel incredibly lucky and grateful." With that, she gave a pointed look at Lea, whose eyes widened.

"What? Oh, fine, fine. Yes, Professor Juniper, I'm very happy you gave me additional homework on this otherwise awesome day, I'll be totally sure to fill up this super special awesome Pokèdex with all kinds of information on different pokèmon. Definitely."

"Good." Despite Lea's sarcasm, Professor Juniper seemed to accept her words. "Well, in that case, I want the three of you to travel across Unova, searching far and wide, and–"

"AbsoLUTEly NOT!"

"Daddy!" Bianca spun around as soon as she heard her father's voice booming across the lab, and both Lea and Cheren turned as well. Walking in long, furious strides, Bianca's father walked up to stand right in front of his daughter, glowering down at her. Lea and Cheren both frowned, and moved to stand a bit closer to Bianca; Bianca's father ignored them.

"You're coming home with me this instant! There is no way in Hell I'm letting you go off to fill up some little gadget when you don't have a single clue of how this world works!"

"I do too know how the world works!" Bianca shot back. "I'm not stupid, I–"

"Damn straight you are!" her father bellowed. "You don't have a clue about anything! You've got your head filled with all these cotton candy fantasies of puppies and rainbows—you're nothing but a naive little girl who's living in a fantasy land, and I won't have it, I won't have my daughter running off to get herself killed on some kind of–"

"That's enough."

"Excuse me?" Bianca's father looked up at Professor Juniper, and as one, all three teenagers turned to look at her as well. She was glaring at Bianca's father, who stared just as wildly back.

"I would appreciate it if you would not continue to berate your daughter in the middle of my laboratory," Professor Juniper said, her arms folded across her chest. "Especially when what you're saying isn't true. I have taught Bianca myself these past eleven years, and I'll have you know – as you should already know – that she has made either perfect or near perfect marks on every exam she has taken, including the exams pertaining to geography and the care and raising of pokèmon. Her only problem is a lack of confidence in herself, and that's something that isn't helped at all by you tearing her down for no good reason."

"I'll have you stay out of my business, including how I raise my daughter, thank you," Bianca's father snapped.

"Then I'll have you not bring your parenting techniques into my presence," Professor Juniper replied coolly. "Remember, Mr. Black, that while it's never appropriate to berate your daughter as you've just done, it's _especially _inappropriate to do so in public."

Bianca's father looked as though he wanted to say something more, but although his mouth opened and closed several times and his face turned a deep shade of reddish-purple, no sound came out. Finally, he settled for turning his bulging eyes back on Bianca, who stared back through tears, but no less solidly. "Bianca," he spat, "let's go." He turned, but before he could take more than a single step, Bianca squeaked:

"N-No."

"Excuse me?" He turned back to look at her, but instead of backing up or quailing under his angry stare, Bianca straightened, and shook her head.

"No!" she repeated in a stronger voice. "I-I love you, Daddy, and I love Mom, and I love . . . I love everything about living here. But I love Wotter, too, and I want to go on an adventure. I know that I can be scatterbrained sometimes, and I know that I'm late a lot, but I'm . . . I'm _not _stupid. I'm sixteen now. I can take care of myself, and I know what I need to do. And what I need to do is go on an adventure and find out just what it is that I'm going to do with the rest of my life. Besides . . ." She looked down to the little oshawott in her arms, and the tiny creature licked her wrist. She smiled. "I won't be alone. I'll always have Wotter with me, and any other pokèmon I catch, too."

Bianca's father was silent for a moment. When he spoke again, his voice was quiet, but no less dangerous. "Bianca, you come home with me right now."

"What?" Bianca looked back up at him in surprise. "Daddy, didn't you listen? I said–"

"I know what you said. But here's what I have to say." He wagged his index finger at her. "I say that if you don't come home with me right now, and you leave on some journey instead, then I don't want you to come back, you hear? If you leave, then you leave for good. Don't come back."

"But–but Daddy, I–"

"Are you going to leave, Bianca? Are you gonna go on a journey, instead of staying at home where it's safe, with your Mother and I?"

"I . . ." Bianca looked at Professor Juniper, Cheren, and Lea. Neither Professor Juniper or Cheren showed much outward reaction, but Lea offered Bianca a small smile. Bianca nodded. "I'm going to go on a journey, Daddy. Just like I said I would."

Bianca's father pressed his lips tightly together, and then turned to leave. "Fine," he said, striding toward the door. "Fine. Have a nice life, Bianca. Hope you don't get yourself killed."

"I won't, but – Daddy! Daddy, wa–" The door to the lab slammed shut behind Bianca's father, even though she'd taken a few steps forward as she called out to him, and she hung her head as soon as the door was closed. Lea and Cheren instantly moved to her sides, and Lea patted her back a couple of times.

"Aw, don't worry about it, Bi. Your dad's a jerk-face anyway. And you know what you'll do? You'll show him! You'll survive, and be awesome while surviving, and someday you'll become some majorly famous Pokèmon Trainer, and _that'll _show him."

"Your father can't just kick you out, anyway," Cheren said quietly, and as Bianca sniffed, he reached forward to wipe a few tears from her cheeks. "Your mother would never let that happen. What he said he said out of anger, but he'll come around. You'll see."

"And if he doesn't, you're always welcome to come live with me! I'm sure my mom wouldn't care, and my dad's pretty much never home 'cause he's always away on business, but if he _was _home then he wouldn't care, either," Lea said. Cheren nodded.

"You're always welcome at my place, too. You're already my sister in every way but blood; having you move in would just make it more official."

Bianca laughed a little, and reached her hand up to wipe the rest of the tears away herself. "Thank you," she said, and when she looked up, she was smiling at both of them. "Both of you, thank you. I don't know what I'd do if–well–" As her voice choked up along with her words, she reached forward and pulled both of them into a hug, which they returned—even Lea, for while she wasn't too open to receiving hugs from most people (she just didn't have time for the sippy-sappy moments), she was more than happy to receive them from Bianca, Cheren, or both, especially when one of them needed it. Professor Juniper, who'd watched the proceedings in silence up until that point, reached forward to put one hand on Cheren's head, and the other on Lea's.

"That's what I like to see," she said, grinning at them as they broke apart. "Camaraderie. Just as I said in my letter, the three of you need each other. Even if you separate on your travels, keep this bond," she gestured to the three of them, "strong, you hear me? Nothing's more important than friendship, especially in the journeys that lie ahead."

"Yeah, yeah, we got it! It's not like we need you to tell us to stay friends, you know." Lea rolled her eyes in exasperation. "I mean, we're perfect! Awesome! Awesomely perfect! Nothing could ever break us apart! We're true companions, you know? Forever and always!"

"'True companions' sounds cheesy, Lea," Cheren said, and Lea stuck her tongue out at him.

"Bite me, Cheren."

Bianca giggled. "You guys!" Looking back at Professor Juniper, however, she nodded. "You're absolutely right, Professor. Thank you."

"You're welcome, Bianca. Oh, before I forget . . ." Professor Juniper turned back to her desk, and swiped three soft pouches off it. "I have one more thing to give each of you. Here you go!"

Lea caught her pouch, and quickly opened the drawstrings, peering inside. "More pokèmon?" she asked in bewilderment, and Professor Juniper laughed.

"Of course not. Those are empty pokèballs, used for capturing pokèmon." She paused, and then eyed Lea suspiciously. "You _do _remember how to capture pokèmon, don't you?"

"Of course I do!" Lea shot back, offended. "Jeez, what kind of idiot do you take me for?"

"A special one," Cheren replied, and Lea reached over to smack him on the arm, to which he retaliated by pushing her. Before Lea could retaliate by punching him in the face, Professor Juniper stepped between them, placing one hand on each of their arms to pull them apart.

"All right, all right, that's enough! All three of you are now set to start on your journeys. Make sure that you have everything that you need, and then head for Route 1." Cheren recalled Nagini into her pokèball, and Lea and Bianca did the same for Ganon and Wotter. "Route 1 is a straight shot from here to Accumula Town, so you shouldn't get lost, but if you do, you have my number. Feel free to call me any time."

"We will, we will! Probably, maybe, you know." Lea shifted her weight from foot to foot impatiently. "Can we go now?"

Professor Juniper laughed. "Yes, you may go. Be safe, all three of you."

"Right! Cheren, Bi, let's boost it on outta here! Bye, Professor Juniper!" Without further preamble, Lea grabbed Cheren by the collar of his jacket and Bianca by her wrist, and hauled them both bodily out of the laboratory.

Of course, Cheren wasn't one to letting himself be dragged for long, and as such as soon as they were out of the lab, he pulled himself free from Lea's grasp. But while Lea managed to drag Bianca hell-pelt toward Route 1, on the northern edge of town, as they neared it, Bianca dug her heels into the dirt and pulled Lea to a stop.

"Lea, wait! _Wait_!"

"What?" Lea asked impatiently. "C'mon, Bi, we're almost there!"

"I know, but–" She stopped, as if unsure how to word what she wanted to say, and then looked at both Cheren and Lea seriously. "Look, we're starting on a whole new adventure, right? I mean, this is our first adventure ever."

"Right . . ." Lea agreed, nodding. Bianca nodded, too.

"Well, we're probably not going to travel together the whole time. We each have things that we want to do, and so we'll probably split up soon after this."

"Logically speaking, we'll probably split up once we reach Accumula Town," Cheren said, and Bianca nodded again.

"Right. Well, I think that since we're all together now, and since we've _been _together all our lives, and since we're starting this journey together . . . then we should take our first step onto Route 1 together, at the same time. You know, because it's so special."

Lea and Cheren glanced at each other, and then back at Bianca. Cheren was the first to speak. "I think it's an excellent idea," he said. "We're in this together, even if we're separated, after all. Why not start at _exactly _the same time?"

"Yeah!" Lea said, punching the air with her fist. "We're Team Awesome, right? So as Team Awesome, we should totally take the first step together. It's practically tradition."

"Tradition? Since when?" Cheren asked, and Lea grabbed one of his hands, reaching out to grab Bianca's hand as well.

"Since now. Let's go! Are you ready guys?" They lined up on the very edge of town, hand in hand, and nodded.

"I'm ready. On the count of three, right?" Bianca asked, and when she saw the other two nod, began with: "One–"

"–two–"

"–three!" The three of them took one large step onto Route 1.

And if there was some sort of predestination, if there really was some big yarn of fate that was getting ready to tumble, that would have been the moment it did. That moment when they each took their first step out of town, hand in hand—that was when the first domino fell.

Not a single one of them noticed it.

"We did it! We really did it!" Bianca chirped, and she was so excited that her voice shot up an octave. "We officially left town, we're officially Pokèmon Trainers – we did it!"

"I've waited my whole life for this," Cheren murmured, and his smile was one of the widest it had ever been. "I'm finally a Trainer . . . _Finally _. . ."

"Awww yeah, we're ready to kick some ass and take some names now!" Lea cheered, and she did a little dance on the spot. "The world seriously isn't going to know what hit it. Seriously. We're going to rock every single town we come across! They're just not going to be able to handle us, wait and see!"

"Yeah!" Bianca agreed, and then her eyes widened. "Oh! Um, before I forget, I actually got you guys something . . ."

"What?" Lea exchanged a bewildered look with Cheren as Bianca began to rummage in her bag. "Bi, that wasn't necessary, you didn't have to get us anything . . ."

"Oh, I know, but I got one for myself, too, don't worry. If I could only find . . . here we go!" Bianca finally pulled out a small, square velvet case. As Cheren and Lea watched curiously, she pried the top of the box off, and then carefully examined what was inside before handing one of each to both Lea and Cheren.

"One of each" happened to be a small silver bracelet. Lea took hers carefully, examining it from every angle. It seemed pretty ordinary, at first – just a silver chain bracelet, with two small, flat, rectangular silver plates hooked in at two different points on the chain. But as she examined it, Lea noticed that each small plate was engraved with a name: one of them read _Cheren_, and the other, _Bianca_.

"They're friendship bracelets," Bianca explained, talking a little faster, likely due to nerves. "I had them made for us—well, I special ordered them, normally they make bracelets with only one nametag instead of two, but—well, anyway, I had them made for us since I knew that we wouldn't always be able to travel together, but I figured this way we could always—I mean, I know that we'll always remember each other anyway, because I love you guys and I know you feel the same, but I figured this would be a way to keep a little piece of each other always by us, you know? You don't have to wear them if you don't want to, but I just figured–"

"Bianca, you're still as ridiculous as the day I met you," Cheren said, and Lea looked up to see that Bianca was eying him in worry – worry that quickly gave way to happiness as he hooked his bracelet – one which Lea saw bore her name as well as Bianca's – around his wrist. "Of course I'll wear it. I'll never take it off. Thank you."

"Yeah, seriously. This is awesome. Thanks, Bi!" Lea fumbled with hers a little, but quickly got it around her own wrist as well. Bianca beamed, and hastened to clasp her own bracelet around her wrist.

"Thank you, guys—I mean, you're welcome! I mean—ah, well–" Bianca finally managed to get her bracelet clasped, and then looked up at her two best friends with a bright smile. "Well, you know."

"Damn straight we do." Lea gave Bianca a bare toothed grin, and glanced back to give the same to Cheren. "So guys, off to Accumula Town, then?"

"You bet." Cheren grinned, and Bianca – all traces of nervousness gone now – bounced a little ahead of them, clapping her hands in excitement.

"All right, you guys, let's go! And actually, I have a little idea for a contest . . ."


	2. Chapter Two

_"The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances; if there is any reaction, both are transformed."_–Carl Gustav Jung

_"Nobody realizes that some people expend tremendous energy merely to be normal."_—Albert Camus

**Chapter Two: Fresh Faces, First Meetings, and the Beginnings of a Plot**

* * *

Earlier in the day, three teenagers from Nuvema Town started their journeys as Pokémon Trainers.

The previous day, a teenager named Blair Coalsen had done the same, though he'd started in Striaton City.

Like the three from Nuvema, Blair was sixteen, and originally he hailed from Driftveil City, although there were no Trainer Licenses or starter pokémon to be found there. For that reason, Blair's elder brother Jet had escorted him to Striaton City, where he received his Trainer License, a pokédex, and an oshawott from a kind woman named Fennel on behalf of Professor Juniper. And that, truly, was how Blair ended up in Accumula Town, for while the town didn't have a Gym (and Striaton City did), Blair wanted to head to Nuvema Town before he did anything else, in order to thank Professor Juniper for the pokémon and Pokédex.

Of course, he'd never factored getting lost into the equation.

Accumula Town was the sort of town that liked to pretend that it was a city. The buildings weren't necessarily particularly large, but they were _tall_; many tried to touch the sky in a way that would block out the sun, and they were packed closely together, as if by touching sides they could prevent each other from falling over. Not only were they jam-packed together, but they were jam-packed together in little clusters, which all seemed to form a ring around a central plaza. That wouldn't have been so bad, except that all of the buildings looked roughly the same, and the only spaces to venture between them existed either in the manner of a well-paved street, or a set of stairs that compensated for a steep drop from one level to another. The only building that was set apart from the rest, in fact, was the Pokémon Center, distinguishable by its red roof. It was sitting off by its lonesome—though still right next to the plaza—and was bordered by a cluster of trees. Everything seemed to be a cluster in Accumula Town, and Blair thought that Cluster Town might have been a better name, therefore.

The point, however, was that he was lost. Every time he tried to make it to Route 1, he either ended up back at the plaza or back at Route 2. Asking people for help didn't get him anywhere, either, but that was mostly because he was the sort of person the universe decided didn't exist. When he tried to call out to people, they never heard him, and when he attempted to tap their shoulders, they walked right past him. It wasn't because they were cruel people, or even particularly spiteful; it was merely that Blair blended into the scenery for just about everyone, even when he tried his level best to stand out. One could almost say that it was like he was a ghost, except that wasn't a true, because even a ghost would have attracted more attention than Blair.

That, however, is a digression.

The fact of the matter is, despite growing up in a large city, Blair had an awful sense of direction, and in a town like Accumula, that was good for nothing except getting lost.

For about the umpteenth time, Blair found himself back at the plaza, and he felt like screaming (something he may have done, had he been the sort to do so). Instead of unleashing his rage at the heavens, however, Blair merely tugged the bill of his baseball cap down over his brown eyes, taking deep breaths to try and release the frustration from his body. Getting worked up wouldn't help him, he knew. Sooner or later, he would have to find his way to Route 1. Nurse Joy had, when he'd asked her, said that it wasn't far from the Pokémon Center at all. It shouldn't have been as difficult as it was.

Blair was pulled from his internal reverie as someone shoved by him, barely looking at him as they did so. He frowned, but as his attention was pulled to the area around him, he realized that the plaza was a lot more crowded now than it had been the previous times he'd traipsed through it. A little stage had been set up near the middle of the left side, blue banners depicting a shield bearing the letter 'P' erected on either side of the stage. No one seemed to be on the stage, yet, but people were already gathering in front of it, apparently curious about what was going on. Though his desire to find Route 1 was still quite strong, Blair found himself wandering toward the stage, his eyes fixated on the banners.

"Um . . . excuse me," he tried, reaching out to tap the arm of a man nearby—a man whose eyes also seemed to be fixated on the stage. He received a light grunt in response. "Excuse me?"

"What?" The man didn't really look at him, but a verbal acknowledgment was more than enough for Blair, who already felt the back of his neck and cheeks heating up in response.

"Um . . . w-what's going on here? I-I mean, what's the stage—"

"Demonstration," the man grunted. "Some pokémon activists are giving a demonstration."

Pokémon activists? "Oh. Um, sorry to keep bothering, but when—?"

"An hour from now," the man snapped, and Blair shut his mouth. "Just clear out, would ya?"

Blair didn't see why he needed to, given that the presentation hadn't started yet, but he was not the type that needed to be told twice. Another quick apology left his lips before he retreated, heading back in the direction of the Pokémon Center. The notion of pokémon activists giving a demonstration was intriguing to him, but mostly because the concept was so new to him. Pokémon rights were important, of course, and in Driftveil City pokémon were protected by labor laws just as people were, but he'd never heard of activists actually campaigning for pokémon rights before that moment.

Did pokémon even need humans campaigning for their rights?

The question was enough to hold Blair's attention fast, and while he still wanted to head to Nuvema Town in order to thank Professor Juniper, he now also wanted to hear this presentation. There wasn't, to his knowledge, any place to wait in Accumula Town besides the Pokémon Center, and so he found himself entering through the glass sliding doors once again, despite the fact that he didn't require any of its services at the moment.

The Center was completely packed—far more crowded than it had been earlier that day, much like the plaza was quickly becoming. Trainers of all ages were crowded into the lobby, sitting on the various couches and cushions or else crowded around the Mart counter or complimentary PC. Blair shoved his hands into the pocket of his over-sized blue pullover, feeling his heart beating a bit faster. Driftveil was a large city that was usually bustling with business, but even so, situations like these weren't his forte.

Given that there were no available seats in the lobby, and that it was loud and clamoring with noise anyway, Blair made his way to the cafeteria, where Trainers could eat for free provided they presented a valid Trainer License. That, too, was jam-packed, but although he couldn't see every table from the entrance, Blair held out hope that there would be at least one empty one, near the back. After securing two juice cartons—one for himself, and one for Saphir—Blair began to weave his way through the tables, his eyes scanning the room for just one single, solitary, person-free space.

No such luck.

Every table and every booth was taken, and as he passed by, several Trainers looked up and gave him quizzical looks that made Blair wish he could pull his head down into the collar of his pull-over, like a squirtle. It had been this way in school, of course—receiving judgmental looks for having no friends to sit with during a school lunch was par for the course—but that didn't make dealing with it any easier.

"Oh, hello! Hello—hi! Are you looking for a place to sit?"

Blair looked around, startled, for the source of the voice. It was light and friendly, and when he finally found the source, he found that it belonged to a girl with blonde hair and green eyes, sitting at a half-circle booth with two others: a girl with wild brown hair tied back into a thick, unruly ponytail and electric blue eyes, and a boy with dark hair and calculating grey eyes shielded by glasses. The table was absolutely covered with food (most of it seeming to belong to the brown-haired girl), and if the pokéball insignia on the brown-haired girl's cap wasn't enough to give it away, the three were Trainers who allowed their pokémon free roam of the table. The blonde girl's lillipup was seated on her lap, while another sat begging for scraps at the brown-haired girl's feet, and a purrloin sat between the boy and the blonde girl, its large eyes fixated on the blonde girl's milk carton.

"Hello?" The blonde girl tilted her head to the side, and though she was still smiling, she seemed a bit less sure of herself now. "Do you need a place to sit?" Blair felt his cheeks redden, and opened his mouth to reply when the dark-haired boy did it for him.

"Bianca, you don't need to call out to every stranger that passes by. Odds are likely that he is either here to meet someone, or would find a place on his own."

"Oh . . ." The blonde girl—Bianca-looked put out for all but a second before she shook her head, giving the dark-haired boy a stubborn look. "But he looked lost, Cheren! I saw him wandering around the cafeteria, and he looked so lost and lonely . . ."

"Really?" asked the brown-haired girl, though only after she swallowed a large bite of a double bacon cheeseburger. Blair frowned at the fact that he seemed forgotten, despite the fact that the conversation was about him. "He just looked kinda weird to me." His frown deepened.

"You would know all about that, Lea," said the one named Cheren, as he took a drink of water. The brunette, Lea, puffed out her cheeks, and thumped one fist on the table.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing in particular. Only that you're the Supreme Mistress of All Things Strange and Not Ordinary."

"I think you mean 'extraordinary,' Cheren."

"While I'm impressed you know that word, I meant what I said. Using extraordinary would carry the connotation that you are special in the positive sense, which I didn't mean to imply at all."

"Yeah, well, you can go on and imply whatever you want, but—"

"Guys!" Bianca interrupted what seemed to be an impending fight with that single word, and while both of them looked over at her, she was looking directly at Blair. Seeing this, he averted his eyes, and shifted awkwardly on the spot. "We both know that Lea's different—"

"In an _awesome _way," Lea interrupted, and as Cheren rolled his eyes she stuck her tongue out at him.

"—but that's not the point! The point is," she smiled at Blair, "do you want to sit with us, if you don't have anywhere else to be?"

The truth of the matter was, Blair didn't want to sit with them very much. They all seemed to be particularly close, and the look Cheren was giving him was . . . not exactly cold, but calculating enough to make him feel uneasy. Lea had gone back to digging voraciously into her double bacon cheeseburger with all the table manners of a starved tepig, and all Blair truly wanted was a secluded corner to curl up with his oshawott until it was time for the pokémon activists' presentation to start.

The truth was, however, that Blair was absolutely terrible when it came to saying 'no.' So although he didn't particularly want to be there, he gave a half-hearted shrug and managed to mumble, "S-Sure."

"Oh, good!" Bianca smiled brightly, and reached over to lightly swat Lea's arm. "Lea, scoot a little closer to me so he can sit down by you, okay?"

"Y'okay," Lea said, and she spoke around a mouthful of food so that everyone there could get a clear view of it. Cheren wrinkled his nose as Lea scooted closer to Bianca, and Blair awkwardly took a seat at the edge of the booth.

"Lea, that's disgusting. Swallow before speaking, next time."

Lea did swallow her food, but only so that she could grin wolfishly at Cheren. "That's what she said, Cherry-berry," she said cheerfully, and grabbed a french fry off her plate to drop down to her lillipup. Blair reached for Saphir's pokéball when he saw this, remembering that one of the juice boxes in his pullover pocket was for him. Cheren gave Lea a flat look.

"Whitlea, that joke is so tired that it'll sleep for ten thousand years before it's revived again. Please find some new material." Lea shrugged, and dropped another french fry down to her lillipup.

"Whatevs, it was totally appropriate and you know it." Blair pressed the center button on Saphir's pokéball twice in order to release his oshawott onto his lap, and as he put the pokéball away and reached for Saphir's juice carton, all three Trainers at the table turned to look at him. "Whoa, you've got an oshawott?"

"Um . . . yes," Blair said, and Bianca gasped in delight, clapping her hands together.

"Oh, that's so neat, I have one, too!" she gushed. "I don't have him with me right now—Nurse Joy is tending to him right quick, since the three of us decided to battle our first pokémon right after we made it to town—but I picked oshawott as my very first pokémon ever! His name is Wotter, and he's just the sweetest—well." She looked down at the lillipup sitting in her lap, which wagged its stumpy tail excitedly. "He shares the spot as the sweetest pokémon in the whole world with Toto, here."

"Sweet, schweet, no oshawott could ever beat Ganon. That's my tepig," Lea said, and she looked over at Blair with an overconfident grin. With tepig being a fire-type, Blair thought that Saphir had the advantage, but he didn't say anything as she flipped another french fry to her lillipup. "And Bi, Dogmeat here could probably thrash little Toto in a battle."

Bianca held Toto close to her, and frowned over at Lea. "Could not," she protested, "and I still think Dogmeat is just such an awful name. Couldn't you name him something nicer, Lea?"

"What're you talking about? Dogmeat's an awesome name. I can even call him Dog for short—and you can't get into much trouble with a name like Dog. Right, Dogmeat?" Dogmeat barked in affirmation as Lea dropped yet another fry down to him, and Cheren gave Lea a reproachful look.

"He's going to become overweight if you keep giving him scraps like that."

"Oh, lighten up. I've only given him, like, four fries." She dropped another down and added, "And that was just five fries. Bee-tee-dubs, your purrloin is totally gonna knock over Bi's milk carton in the next five seconds."

It seemed true. As Blair punched a straw through the top of the juice carton and handed it to Saphir (who happily dropped his shell into Blair's lap to partake in the juice), Cheren's purrloin put his paws up on the table to reach for the milk carton. Bianca hastily moved the milk carton out of the way as Cheren grabbed his feline by the scruff of the neck and deposited him on the floor.

"No, Crookshanks. Stay off the table." Crookshanks gave a loud meow of protest, but curled up on the floor to sulk regardless, glaring balefully at Dogmeat as the canine pokémon looked over.

"That's such a weird name," Lea said, and Blair thought that she didn't exactly have the right to say that given her lillipup, but he bit back that comment as she turned to him. "Don'tcha think that's a weird name, uh . . . hey, what's your name, anyway?" Blair was suddenly acutely aware that both Bianca and Cheren were looking at him, now, too—well, Cheren was more staring than merely looking—and he looked down at Saphir, again.

"Um—Blair," he mumbled. "Blair Coalsen." Perhaps his last name wasn't really necessary, but he was the sort to always give his full name when introducing himself. Lea seemed to ponder this for a minute before she laughed.

"Isn't Blair a girl's name?" Blair's cheeks reddened, and—used to years of teasing from his older brother, and embarrassing baby photographs of him wearing pink dresses and yellow bonnets—he retorted before he could help himself.

"Isn't Lee usually a boy's name?" The smile faded from Lea's face, and she gave him an odd look. It wasn't exactly a frown or scowl, but it was certainly appraising, and he felt his brief flash of defiance ebbing away.

"Huh. Yeah, I guess so. Hey! You know what that means?" Lea reached out and thumped Blair on the shoulder, roughly enough for it to hurt a little and jostle Saphir, who looked positively indignant as a bit of juice splashed down his front. "It means we've got something in common, Blair-bear! We both have gender-blender names!"

Blair simply stared at her, his cheeks feeling hotter than ever before as his lips mouthed, 'Blair-bear . . . ?' But before he had a chance to respond, Bianca took hold of the conversation, and the slightly higher-note to her voice suggested that she was changing the subject on purpose.

"So! Where are you headed, Blair? Your oshawott baby looks pretty young, still, so did you just start out like us? We only just started out today. Oh! And what's your oshawott's name? You know, so that way we're not just being all rude and referring to him by his species." Bianca seemed to catch herself babbling at that moment, for her cheeks reddened a little bit as she halted her flow of speech, and though Blair felt a bit overwhelmed by the rapid-fire questions, her apparent awkwardness was something that he could empathize with, and that made answering a little bit easier.

"His name's Saphir," he said quietly, and—upon looking down and seeing that Saphir was trying to brush juice drops off his fur with his paws—he took the hem of his pullover and cleaned his oshawott off. "I only just got him yesterday. I, um—I want to go to Nuvema Town, to thank Professor Juniper." A gasp from Bianca made him look up, and Blair found that all three Trainers were staring at him in shock.

"Oh, really? That's so—we're from Nuvema Town!" Bianca's green eyes were practically shining in excitement, and she bounced a little in her seat. Cheren was still watching him, he noticed uneasily, but had at least gone back to eating his sandwich. "Oh, that's so neat! It's so good that we met you, then!"

"G-Good?" Blair asked, feeling a bit confused. Lea interrupted before Bianca could elaborate on her thoughts.

"I don't know about good, but it's totally kickin' that you wanna go visit Juni-baby's lab. She's the one that hooked us up with our first pokémon, too." She dropped a fry down to Dogmeat, who gobbled it up happily, before she looked back over at Blair with an odd look. "But hey, how'd you get a pokémon from her if you've never met her?"

"That's a surprisingly intelligent question, coming from you," Cheren said, and Lea flipped him a rude hand gesture that made Bianca give her a reproachful look.

"Shut up, Cheren." Lea looked back to Blair, who felt his cheeks heat a bit under her scrutinizing gaze. "So? How'd it happen?"

"W-Well . . ." Blair swallowed, trying to wet his throat. He knew there was likely no reason to feel nervous, but he couldn't _help _but feel nervous when he was being interrogated like this. "I—I took correspondence courses to get my Trainer License, and . . . I passed. So I came to Striaton City to pick up my License, Pokédex, and chosen first pokémon from one of Professor Juniper's friends." Blair licked his lips before chewing on the bottom one a little. He kept his eyes on Saphir, finding it easier to watch his oshawott crush the juice box between his paws than look up at the three other Trainers in the booth. "That's all."

"Oh. Well, that's no big deal." Lea leaned back in the booth, and Blair stole a glance at her out of the corner of his eye, watching as she stretched her arms up over her head. "So, what'cha hanging around here for if you're gonna go thank Juni-baby? Nuvema Town's not far from here, but you should still probably get there before it gets dark, or whatever. There's not a Pokémon Center there, or anything."

"I'm sure Professor Juniper would give him a place to stay in the lab," Bianca said, but she sounded a bit doubtful as she said it. Even if she wasn't willing to voice her doubt, however, it seemed that Cheren was.

"There isn't really a place for him to sleep there, besides the floor, and she's never met him, besides. For once, Lea is actually correct." Blair saw Lea silently mock Cheren out of the corner of his eye, and as Cheren fixed his steely gaze on Blair, the meeker boy averted his eyes. "You really should head out soon if you want to make it there and back here before dark."

"W-Well . . . yeah." Blair's shoulders slumped, and though his inner shame was begging him not to say it, he couldn't help but be honest regardless. "I tried to go earlier, but I . . . I got lost in the city. I couldn't find Route 1." Lea burst out laughing, and Blair felt his cheeks flame in embarrassment. Upon hearing Bianca giggle a little as well, and even a soft chuckle escape Cheren, Blair plowed on, hoping to push his embarrassment behind him. "And—And there's a demonstration going on here soon that I want to see. S-Supposedly pokémon activists are going to be giving one."

That brought the laughter up short, and Blair sensed that Lea had looked over at him. "Pokémon activists?" she echoed, and he nodded. "Huh. What're they for?"

"Pokémon rights, or something," Blair mumbled. He pulled his hat down further over his eyes, making his untidy brown hair that much messier beneath it. "I don't know. That's why I want to see." He heard Lea start tapping her foot on the floor beside him, which disturbed Dogmeat enough to make him pounce at Crookshanks, who let out an angry hiss.

"Well, it's good that pokémon have rights—I mean, it's important," Bianca said, and her tone suggested that she was pondering it. "Although, they have rights, don't they? So why does someone need to raise a fuss about it?"

"People will take any excuse to cause a scene," Cheren said, and Blair looked up just enough to see that the other teen was starting to gather the group's trash onto his tray. "Though I'll admit that I'm curious to hear this group's reasoning as well, including what they're actually aiming for. If it's better working or living conditions, that's one thing, but . . ."

"But nothing," Lea said, and Blair glanced over to see her stick her chin out defiantly, her arms crossed over her chest. "They've got good living and working conditions. I mean, sure, I'm sure _some _pokémon don't, because they don't have Trainers, but for the most part I think they've got it pretty all right, especially if they've been caught by a super kickass Trainer." She grinned, envisioning herself as the super kickass Trainer in question, if Blair had to guess. "So what could anyone have to bitch about, then?"

"I would assume," Cheren said, standing up and stacking his tray on top of Bianca's and Lea's, "that we would have to watch the demonstration to find out." With that, he turned to take the trays and trash to the trash bin across the room, and Lea gave a fierce grin that made Blair's stomach do a flip.

"Yeah," Lea said. "Let's do it."

* * *

The planet's current world population sat at roughly seven billion people, and at least half—perhaps more—of those people happened to be Pokémon Trainers. Even those that didn't actively Trained owned pokémon, keeping them around as pets, or else making them serve as construction workers or servants.

It was, in a word, sickening.

Sickening as well as baffling, when one took into account the fact that the number of pokémon in the world doubled or even tripled the number of humans, and many—if not all—of the pokémon could hurt or even kill humans if they truly wanted to. The fact was, however, that they didn't—that, unlike humans, pokémon were creatures that were pure of heart, without any malicious intent. Even when they were abused they refused to turn, proving time and time again—beyond reasonable doubt—that they were better than the humans who shared the planet with them.

It was admirable, even if it was frustrating.

Accumula Town, known for its clusters of buildings and many stone staircases, was but one small town in the region of Unova, but it attracted enough Trainer traffic to make a Team Plasma demonstration worthwhile. The stage and banners had already been erected, and the only reason the demonstration hadn't yet started was because Ghetsis, leader of Team Plasma's Seven Sages, thought it wise to leave the stage and banners set up for awhile to attract more attention. The point was to gather as many people for an audience as possible, figuring that it was best that the message reach as many people as possible. It was a good idea, in theory, but one that Team Plasma's own king didn't truly care about supporting.

After all, humans wouldn't change willingly, so it didn't matter if they heard or not.

Natural Harmonia—better known as N—stood just to the left of the stage, leaning up against it as he watched people crowd into the plaza, staring at the stage with wonder in their eyes, and curious whispers leaving their mouths. To them, he probably looked like any other Trainer, despite the fact that he didn't carry any pokéballs on him. His shoes were converse and his pants were khaki, and both his black undershirt and collared white overshirt had three-quarter sleeves. He wore a watch on one wrist and oddly shaped bangle bracelets on the other, a planet-like pendant hanging from a chain around his neck while a similar chain held a Void Cube dangling from his belt loop. Long, seafoam green hair was thick and tied in a ponytail, a black and white baseball cap pulled down over matching eyes. Really, while his style of dress might come across as a _bit _odd, he looked no different from any other Trainer, save for perhaps his height (he had a lot of it, at nearly six feet) and oddly pale skin (he'd only seen the sun for the first time a few months previously).

The fact of the matter was, though, that N wasn't a Trainer—not by any means. And as he watched Trainers gather in the plaza, tossing pokéballs up and down in their hands, or carrying pokémon in their arms like stuffed ragged dolls to be dragged around for their amusement . . . it made him feel sick. He crossed his arms over his stomach, glaring at the crowd, and it wasn't until he felt something soft brush against his ankles that he looked down, his expression relaxing.

"Oh, hello," he said softly, and he squatted down to be more on level with the purrloin that had wandered up to him. The feline gave a meow in response, and N felt a small smile twitch at his lips. "It's brave of you to wander into town," he noted. "Someone could try to catch you here." He reached out and scratched the purrloin behind her ears, his smile widening as she butted her head up against his palm. "Though, you don't have to worry so long as you're with me. I'll protect you."

"My liege, it is almost time for the demonstration to start. Surely you don't mean to waste time by talking to a stray purrloin?"

The voice that spoke to him was deep and smooth, and it removed all traces of a smile from N's face. As he stood up, he put his hands into his pockets, and turned to look around behind the stage. The man who stood there was short and slim, though the battle armament—bearing Team Plasma's crest—that he wore made him look stockier than he actually was. The armament led down to a purple and gold cape bearing eye insignia that N always found strange (though he never commented on it), and covered a white robe that fell over brown sandals. Like N, Ghetsis had green hair (though his was streaked with grey), but unlike N, Ghetsis' eyes were red—and one of them was mechanical.

"Spending time with a pokémon is never a waste, Ghetsis, and that's something I thought _you_ would understand, considering." N let a bit of derision seep into his voice, but he kept most of it in check. Though _he _was Team Plasma's king, Ghetsis had been the one to raise him, and set the rules; he knew better than to snap. Not wanting to hear any sort of remark on his tone, N quickly continued on. "You're about set to start, then?"

"Yes, just about." Ghetsis' tone was cool, and N knew that Ghetsis knew that he knew that Ghetsis was only holding back an admonishment because he felt like it, but that N was still in the wrong for his tone and could easily face admonishment later. This knowledge didn't sit quite well with N, but he knew that it was worth it, for now—he could put up with it for now, because in the future, it would no longer matter. "We seem to have a sizable crowd. Tell me, Your Majesty; how many people have gathered to hear our words?"

N walked backward a few paces to get a full view of the crowd. Trainers and non-Trainers alike were pressed tightly into the square, crowding around the stage and craning their necks to try and get a better view. N craned his neck a bit as well, to see to the very edge of the crowd, and after a minute's examination, he returned back to Ghetsis.

"Sixty-six, and I saw four more coming here from the Center." A smirk curled the corner of Ghetsis' mouth up. "There's hardly room to walk in the plaza anymore. People are spilling out of the sides. Are you sure that the message will be able to reach all of them? Did you think to bring a microphone?"

"Team Plasma has been preparing for this day for the past twenty years, my lord," Ghetsis said, and his tone suggested that he was not appreciative at all of N's questions. "That is a year longer than you have been born, I'll remind you. Yes, we did remember to bring the microphone."

"Good." N tapped his fingers along his legs, bouncing on the balls of his feet. As sickened as he was by the Trainers, the presence of so many people made him feel nervous. Logically, he knew that they could never capture him as they would attempt to capture a pokémon, but even still, the thought of them raising a pokéball against him made the hairs on his arms stand straight up. "Well, then you'd better get started. I'll watch from the crowd."

"Oh?" While Ghetsis' smirk had taken on an angry tilt before, amusement flashed free within it once again. "Are you sure you'll be comfortable among those people, Your Majesty? There are plenty of Trainers in that crowd—plenty of people who confine and enslave pokémon." N's eyes narrowed, and while one hand squeezed his Void Cube, the other tightened in his pant leg.

"Yes. I'm aware. However, if I am among them, then I can get closer to them. While it's important to keep your friends close, Ghetsis, it's equally as important to keep your enemies closer." Ghetsis raised the eyebrow over his mechanical eye.

"Where did you hear that?"

"Rood taught it to me. He told me that it would be essential knowledge for overcoming my enemies."

"Did he, now." Ghetsis looked contemplative, but before N could ask him what he was thinking, he raised one hand in dismissal. "Well, think what you will, for now. It's time to begin the demonstration. Stay here or join the crowd—either one is fine with me, so long as you do not take the stage while I am talking."

"Understood." N turned to walk back around to join the thick crowd that had gathered before the stage, and the purrloin that had waited for him meowed loudly as he passed. Hearing this, N paused, and then turned to open his arms. As seamlessly as if the purrloin had been with him for his entire life, the cat leaped up to his chest, and N caught her with a smile. "You trust me, don't you?" he asked, and the purrloin licked the underside of his chin with her sandpaper-like tongue. He laughed. "Of course you do. Well, stay with me, and I promise to ensure your safety."

Given the close proximity he already had to the stage, N was able to secure himself a place in the front row, near to the center. While he could still feel the people pressed in at his back and near his sides, it wasn't nearly as bad as it would have been had he been forced deeper into the crowd. The mere thought of their hot bodies pressing in on him almost made him retch a little, and it was only the comfort of the purrloin in his arms that kept him from actually doing so. As much as he would keep her safe, for the moment, she was doing the same for him.

But as the Team Plasma grunts gathered on the stage, standing in perfectly uniform lines, N did take note of the people around him—or rather, he took note of four Trainers to his left that were separated from him by three other people. He might not have noticed them if it wasn't for the fact that a boy with a blue pullover and baseball cap was holding an oshawott in his arms, just as a girl with blonde hair and green eyes was doing with a lillipup. Somehow, though, even more than the pair of them, N's eyes were drawn to a girl who was only a couple of inches shorter than he was, with wild brown hair and bright blue eyes. She was talking animatedly about something—the volume of the crowd at large drowned at her words—and as she spoke she made gestures with her hands as if to illustrate her point.

That wasn't important, though. What was important was the fact that N could tell that—for whatever reason—she had stuffed pokéballs down the front of her shirt. It was almost difficult to tell, due to her breasts, but all the same, N could tell.

He wondered why she kept them there.

Ghetsis took the stage, then, and N tore his eyes away from the female Trainer's chest to look up at the stage, instead. Despite the fact that Ghetsis hadn't said a word, the crowd fell silent, somehow knowing that this was the event that they'd been waiting for. Ghetsis had that sort of presence, N supposed—the type of presence that automatically silenced others, and made the presence of the microphone in his hand rather obsolete.

"Whoa. I'm pretty sure that creepy dude standing there in front is a robot."

Given the sudden silence of the crowd, this comment was more than easy to hear, and both N and the purrloin in his arms looked around at the girl with wild brown hair. Her companions shushed her, but N was already frowning at her remark. Ghetsis looked like a robot? What was that supposed to mean?

Ghetsis, too, had looked at the offending girl, but he barely spared her a scowl, instead choosing to address the crowd. Despite the girl's comment, after all, the crowd's attention was still rapt and riveted on Ghetsis, and N bounced from foot to foot, again.

"Greetings." Though Ghetsis was holding a microphone, he didn't speak directly into it—and to his credit, he didn't need to. A small shiver ran through N's body. "For those of you who are unaware, my name is Ghetsis, and I am here today to represent the ideals and truths of Team Plasma."

"He definitely _sounds _like a robot." That was the brown-haired girl again, and N looked back over at her, the corners of his lips dragging down just a bit more. Even though she wasn't talking about him, and even though he wasn't quite sure what she meant by her comments, he was starting to feel a little bit offended. A boy wearing glasses standing next to her elbowed her roughly in the side.

Though Ghetsis must have heard her comment—N could tell by the way a little muscle twitched in his jaw that he did—he ignored her, continuing on regardless. Slowly, he began to pace up and down the stage as he talked, though his eyes never left the crowd gathered before him as he did so.

"For years, the largest regions in our world have been force-fed the same propaganda by the various regional Leagues: pokémon serve humans because they want to. Wild pokémon are jealous of those that have Trainers. The relationship between humans and pokémon is symbiotic, to the point where it forms a bond so strong that it can never be broken." Ghetsis came to stand in the center of the stage again, and this time, he did begin to speak into the microphone. "However, is that really the truth?

"Pokèmon are powerful creatures." Once again, he began to pace, and N held the purrloin just a little bit tighter, his eyes glued to Ghetsis' form. "They possess abilities that are far beyond any human being's scope. It is only natural, then, for human beings to want to use them—for human beings to want to possess them as they would any tool." N felt his heart beginning to beat a little bit faster. "Ask yourselves, now: does it make sense that pokémon would want to serve humans? That they would want to do our bidding? That they would be happy completing menial tasks, or hard labor chores, to which they have nothing to gain? That they would be content to be enslaved in tiny capsules, or else stored as digital data in personal computers? Does it make _sense _that they would want to fight hard, and endure pain and exhaustion all for the benefit of some human Trainer that took them out of the wild?

"No!" Ghetsis' voice was a loud boom, and N felt a shift in the crowd as many of the onlookers jumped. He stole a glance to his left, and saw that the girl with brown hair was scowling, though the blonde girl and baseball cap wearing boy looked uneasy. The glasses wearing boy had a neutral expression. "What do the pokémon have to gain from this relationship? Nothing. They gain absolutely nothing from their partnership with humans, and that is because—despite what the Pokémon League would have you believe—it is _not _a partnership at all! It is slavery—slavery in its worst form, slavery at its ugliest. Humans enslave pokémon, removing them from their familial units and natural habitats in the wild, forcing them to carry out chores and compete in battles that they wouldn't ordinarily. This may benefit the humans, but it causes nothing but harm to the very creatures that humans would like to preach about being their friends!"

N could feel the unease growing in the crowd—he could sense the uncertainty and doubt, but his heart was beating faster with exhilaration, his breathing just a bit shorter. This speech was everything that he'd ever thought, everything that he'd ever felt. It was true, of course—all of it was true. There was no reason to remove pokémon from the wild, especially not to just do some human's bidding. And humans treated pokémon horribly, besides—N had seen it with his own eyes. Though he'd heard Ghetsis give similar speeches before, every time he heard a new one, he was filled with a rush of righteousness and pride. _This_ was noble. _This _was pure. And one day, despite how uneasy the crowd seemed to feel now, everyone would see it the same way he did. The same way Ghetsis did. The same way all of Team Plasma did.

"I ask you, then: what do pokémon deserve?" Ghetsis continued, and he raised his voice even as he spoke into the microphone, leaving no room for doubt that everyone there would be able to catch every word. "What do these powerful, beautiful creatures deserve? Should we simply outlaw people from catching new pokémon? Should we try and create more laws to protect their rights, even though the very fact that they're kept in confinement goes against the very nature of freedom, and what is just? I ask you, citizens of Accumula Town: what should we do for pokémon? What should we, as the humans that have captured and enslaved pokémon, give to them in return and apology for all that they have suffered through for us?"

While some people in the crowd whispered uneasily amongst themselves, and while the brown-haired girl was continuously shushed by her friends, no one seemed inclined to answer Ghetsis' question. Because of this, and because N couldn't truly stop himself from replying, N cried, "Liberation!" and punched one fist into the air as he did so. Several people nearby turned to look at him, and in particular, N felt the eyes of the brown-haired girl lock on him. Ghetsis, too, looked down, but the look was fleeting and he quickly turned his eyes back to the crowd at large.

"Yes," Ghetsis said, and N felt his heart soar at the very thought. "Liberation! We must liberate pokémon from the enslavement of human Trainers! Liberation! We must liberate them from their poor working conditions, from their confinement in pokéballs and personal computers. Liberation! We must grant them the same freedom that humans experience, the freedom to live their lives as they please in the wild! Liberation! We must restore to them their rights as living beings, the rights afforded to them simply by being alive! Liberation—liberation for all pokémon, everywhere, in Unova and beyond! Pokémon liberation—_that _is what Team Plasma strives for, now and forever, and we hope that someday all of you can join us in pursuing this noble goal." Ghetsis bowed, and the grunts—or knights, as N preferred to call them, Knights of Justice—lined up on either side of him did the same. "Thank you for your time."

With that, Ghetsis turned to exit the stage, and the Plasma knights began to gather up the banners to pack up and leave. N remained where he was, though every nerve in his body felt like it was on fire, and he bounced from foot to foot due to his inability to sit still. Around him, the crowd of humans buzzed with nervous energy, and his heightened sense of hearing picked up on a few snippets of their conversations:

_"Do you really think that's true?"_  
_"It can't be true."_  
_"Pokémon_ like _battling, this is in their best interests!"_  
_". . . Isn't it?"_

The fact that they had doubt didn't bother N—if anything, it only exhilarated him more. They were already beginning to see the errors of their ways. If the humans were this easy to convince, then perhaps they weren't so bad after all. Perhaps there was still some worth left in their species, some miniscule amount of value—

"That guy is seriously the most crazed-up freakin' fruit loop that I've ever had the misfortune of having to listen to, ever, in the history of forever."

N looked around for the source of the voice, and tilted his head as he located it, the purrloin jumping out of his arms to stretch by his feet. It was the brown-haired girl, again.

* * *

Most people who had met her said that Lea was a passionate person.

Well, "passionate" wasn't always the word they had used. Some enjoyed using the word "emotional." Others liked "temperamental." Cheren was always fond of "insane."

Nonetheless, most people could agree that when Lea felt an emotion, she felt it strongly, and she didn't spare a single second when it came to showcasing it. As tactless as she could be, one of the good things about Lea was that she didn't lie, and she didn't pretend to feel something when she didn't. Ergo, when she was happy, she would jump around and cheer; when she was sad, she would likely cry or brood. And when she was angry . . .

"Seriously, can you believe any of that bullshit?" She flailed one hand toward the stage, and rounded on Cheren, Bianca, and Blair. Blair was biting his lip as he stared at the stage, his soft brown eyes flicking between her and it uncertainly. "That guy was going on, and on, and on, and on, and _on_—"

"Lea," Cheren interrupted, sounding a bit impatient.

"—and on about how we 'enslave' and 'abuse' pokémon, and really? Come off it! If pokémon were so 'abused' and 'tormented', don'tcha think they'd, like, revolt or something?" Lea crossed her arms. "Ganon's totally the King of Evil, and Dogmeat's a warrior. If they felt so 'abused,' or whatever, they'd totally just kill me and get it over with."

"I don't know about that, but . . ." Bianca held Toto close to her, nuzzling her face against his head before she planted a kiss between his ears. "I could never stand the thought of hurting either Toto _or _Wotter. If I thought I was hurting them by keeping them with me, I'd release them right quick, but I don't think I am . . ."

"Of course you aren't." Cheren's reply was brisk, but even Lea could see that he looked troubled, and that just made her frown even more. Cheren was often troubled by her antics (in fact, one could ask him and find that he would say that she _always _troubled him), but this was a different sort of troubled. This was the sort of troubled that looked like he thought they might actually have a real problem on their hands. She didn't like it. "None of us are, and I don't think that our pokémon feel that they're being enslaved. If they did, then they would—as Lea suggested—rebel and escape. There have been numerous documented cases of pokémon doing just that."

"Then why do you look worried?" Bianca asked softly, picking up on the same cues that Lea did. Lea fixated her attention on Cheren, and she saw Blair do the same. "If you know they're wrong, then why—?"

"Not everyone in that crowd seemed to know," Cheren said, and like Lea, he folded his arms across his chest. "There were numerous people who expressed doubt, even agreement. Obviously we know that pokémon aren't enslaved or abused, but if enough people start believing in that insanity, then . . ."

"Oh." Bianca looked down, and Blair shifted uneasily. "I see what you mean."

Lea continued to tap her foot on the ground, feeling agitated and wound up. She didn't quite know what she wanted to do in that moment. Part of her wanted to rail against Cheren for even suggesting that—because really, who could ever believe anything that Ghetsis creep was saying? Who in their right minds would listen? But a logical part of her brain that she rarely ever listened to reasoned that Cheren was right, and that she'd heard the timid voices of agreement just as he had. _That_ part of her brain wanted to round up every single person who even _thought _about agreeing with Ghetsis just to yell at them, or else manually knock some sense into their thick heads. There was no way that pokémon suffered by being Trained! No way at all!

But the plaza was mostly empty by that point, giving her no opportunity to give a speech of her own. Team Plasma had completely vacated the premises, and aside from their group, hardly anyone was milling about the plaza anymore. Hardly anyone except—

"Whoa!"

Lea stumbled back a few paces as someone ran up to her—actually ran, only coming to an abrupt halt once he was a foot away from her. Cheren, Bianca, and Blair all stumbled back as well, rounding on the stranger with expressions of shock similar to Lea's own. The stranger was taller than Lea was, a fact that was surprising given that even Blair was an inch or two shorter, with green hair and matching eyes. What surprised Lea, though—other than the stranger's sudden, abrupt rush up to her—was his skin tone. It was pale, paler than even Cheren's, and it made her think of some of the comic books she'd read about mutant freaks that were raised underground, never getting to see a single drop of sunlight.

The thought that _he _might have been a mutant freak that was raised underground, away from sunlight, made her sputter a laugh before she could help it.

But though he'd rushed up to stand just in front of her, staring at her with an intense gaze, he didn't stop there. Quickly, his movements somehow jerky yet fluid at the same time, he circled her, never once removing his eyes from her. Lea craned her neck around to try and watch his movements, but he only circled her once before he came to stand in front of her again, staring down at her. At first, Lea ducked down to try and meet his eyes, but after a moment she realized that he wasn't trying to look into her eyes—rather, he was staring at her chest.

Cheren seemed to realize this in the same moment Lea did.

"Excuse you," Cheren growled, and without wasting another heartbeat, he wedged himself in-between the stranger and Lea and placed his hands on the stranger's chest, shoving him back with all of his strength. Though the stranger towered over Cheren, and thus shouldn't have been pushed at all, he gracefully skipped a few steps backwards, his smile never leaving his face. And his smile was weird, Lea thought—there was definitely something weird about it. Something off-kilter. "I'll thank you to back the Hell away from my friend, and keep your eyes off her chest while you're at it."

"Her chest?" The stranger tilted his head, much like a puppy that had been confused, and his smile still didn't falter. "What do you mean? I wasn't looking at her chest." He spoke quickly, too—perhaps as fast as Lea, if not faster, and though no one had many any such mention of a competition, Lea suddenly found herself accepting the unspoken challenge of speech speed demons.

"I think he means my boobs," Lea said, and she stepped out from around Cheren, dodging the arm he put to block her. If she wasn't so focused on proving that she could speak faster than this stranger, she might have batted Cheren's arm away, and even teased him about wanting to protect her when, ordinarily, he made such a fuss about her being an annoyance that he _should _want to feed her to the wolves. "Y'know, my tits? Ta-tas? My lovely lady lumps?" With each phrase, Blair's cheeks grew redder, though Lea barely noticed. "These things, right here." She cupped her breasts through her shirt and jiggled them a little for emphasis. "This rack that I've got. It's kinda flat, though." She looked down at it, frowning a little. "So I don't know why you're lookin' in the first place, especially since Bi's rack is way better than mine, but it's whatevs, dude." Bianca squeaked, and she held Toto a bit closer to her chest, while Cheren glared at Lea.

"Whitlea, he doesn't need to look at _anyone's_ breasts, _including _Bianca's."

"I'm just _saying_, Cherry-berry, that Bi's boobs are, like, way bigger than mine." Unbeknownst to any of them, Blair side-eyed Bianca's chest, yet then hurriedly looked away, his face going even redder (forcing him to duck his head down and try to hide his red face with his baseball cap). "So if this stranger dude is gonna go all creeper, it'd make more sense for him to creep on her than me, even if that means I'd have to kick him in the face and stuff. Seriously, Creeper." Lea looked back up at the stranger—creeper-in question, wagging one finger in warning at him. "Mess with Bi, and you mess with me. Got it?"

"He should worry more about messing with me." Cheren leveled his frostiest glare at the stranger, and he turned, both hands curled into fists. The stranger merely laughed—and his laugh, like his smile, sounded weird to Lea. The fact that his laugh and smile were weird wasn't necessarily _bad_, but merely . . . well, weird. Lea wasn't sure what to make of it, yet.

"Oh, I'm not interested in your breasts," he said, and he seemed to only have eyes for Lea. After a half-second of consideration, he waved one hand in Bianca's direction, as well. "I'm not interested in her breasts, either. I'm not interested in breasts at all. I wasn't staring at them."

Lea tilted her head to the side, feeling a bit confused now. "You're not interested in boobs?" she asked. "So, are you—"

"Don't lie," Cheren snapped, and he took one step forward. He looked like a cat preparing to spring, and Lea had to fight back a laugh. Cheren was never the type to settle fights physically, mostly because he had no skill for it. The idea of him trying to do so now was, to her, hilarious. "Or, if you're going to lie, at least attempt to be subtle about it. We all saw what you were staring at, plain as day."

The stranger's smile twisted a little. Whereas before it was gigantic, large, and bright, now it became more sardonic. "I would never lie. There is no point to lying. Unlike most humans, it's not a habit I'd ever wish to engage in," he said. "I wasn't staring at her breasts at all. I have no interest in them."

"You—"

"You keep your pokéballs there, do you not?" The stranger pointed straight at Lea's chest, and her eyebrows rose into her hair. "You're storing your pokéballs inside of your shirt. I could tell—I can see them there, and I can almost hear the voices of your pokémon." He took a step closer, again, but was stopped from progressing further by Cheren, who moved to stand protectively in front of Lea, who rolled her eyes with a grin. The stranger raised an eyebrow at Cheren before he turned his attention back to Lea. "Why do you keep your pokéballs there?" he asked her. "It's a strange place to keep them. Pokéballs in general confine pokémon, but to keep them there seems somehow even more . . . cramped. Are your pockets not big enough? Do you want to keep them close to your heart?"

Lea had made an assessment not fifteen minutes prior that Ghetsis was a seriously crazed up fruit loop. Whoever this stranger happened to be, Lea was starting to think that he would fit neatly into that same category. "Actually, I just thought it'd be kind of funny," she said, shrugging. The stranger's eyebrows rose up to meet his bangs.

"Funny?"

"Yeah. You know, like, I enter a battle and stuff, right? And everyone else keeps their pokéballs in their pockets, or their bag, or their belt or whatever. But I just reach down my shirt, and ka-bam! Outta my bra comes my pokémon!" Lea punched the air, and this time it was Cheren's turn to roll his eyes, though he didn't seem nearly as amused. "Plus, sports bras are totally perfect for this kind of thing. I could probably fit a whole team of six in here if I wanted to."

"Sports bras?" The stranger tilted his head, and while his smile was completely gone, now, he didn't look angry—merely confused. Before Lea could lift her shirt to show him what she meant, Bianca intervened, taking a step forward.

"Um, pardon me for interrupting, but who are you?" The stranger, Cheren, Lea, and Blair all looked over at her, and—realizing her own social faux pas quickly—Bianca quickly added, "I just think that we should all introduce ourselves, you know, if we're going to continue talking like this. My name is Bianca, and this is my lillipup, Toto." Toto barked a few times, and the stranger seemed far more interested in what Toto had to say than Bianca. "It's a pleasure to meet you!" She turned, then, to Blair, and nudged his shoulder with her own. He jumped a little, but glanced at the stranger from under the bill of his baseball cap before he mumbled:

"I'm Blair Coalsen, from Driftveil City. N-Nice to meet you."

"I'm Lea!" Lea put both fists on her hips, and gave the stranger her fiercest, broadest, give-'em-Hell grin. He wasn't the only one who could throw others off with a smile. She could best him at that, too, if she tried hard enough. She was sure of it. "Just Lea. Don't listen to anything Cherry-berry says, because Lea is the only name you ever need to associate with me, ever. Got it?" The stranger merely nodded, and Lea glanced at Cheren, who merely continued glaring. Lea kicked him lightly in the shin, and though he glared at her, he bit out an introduction, regardless.

"Cheren." If that could be called an introduction—really, it was debatable. "There. You know our names. Now tell us yours." Lea raised an eyebrow at Cheren, and reached out to give his shoulder a playful push.

"Jeez, rude guy, tone it down a notch, would'ja? There's no need to get all tweaked out. It's not like this guy's one of those Team Plasma creeps, y'know?" Cheren turned to glare at Lea, none of the defensiveness leaving his position.

"Whether he's with Team Plasma or not, he's still a creep. I'm not 'tweaked out;' I'm just being cautious. You could stand to take notes." Lea made a face.

"I've never taken notes in my life, and I'm not about to start now. Seriously. Gross."

"I don't understand any of what you all are talking about," the stranger interrupted, and both Cheren and Lea looked back at them. Lea thought she heard Blair mutter something like, 'Welcome to my world,' and Bianca laughed a little, though Lea could tell that she was forcing it just a tad.

"That's okay. When Lea and Cheren argue, they go off into their own little world," she said. The stranger barely spared her a glance. "Anyway, what did you say your name was?"

"I didn't before. I will now. My name is N." He spoke in such a rapid-fire succession that it was almost all one sentence, and Lea narrowed her eyes a little, wondering how he managed that without having his tongue trip over his words. His eyes were fixed on hers, though, and she wondered if he noticed the same thing she did—that they were both motor-mouths, and that if he was looking for a worthy speed demon rival, then he certainly found one in her. "I heard you, before, during the presentation—and just now, you seemed to express an opinion that Team Plasma is . . . creepy." The way he said the word was almost like he was trying it out, but he continued before Lea could interrupt him. "You disagree with their motivations. You seem to think that they're wrong. I want to know why you think that. Why do you disagree with them? And why do you think that Ghetsis is a robot?"

Excited by the prospect of getting to express all of her feelings on just _why _Team Plasma rubbed her the wrong way, Lea had opened her mouth to reply, but at the last question, she burst out laughing. Cheren still looked disgruntled, but Bianca's lips were twitching as well and even Blair looked as though he might smile.

"Dude, you seriously have to ask?" Lea asked, and that just made Bianca actually start laughing, forcing her to hide the giggles behind one fist. "He's totally a robot! Just look at him!"

"I have looked at him," N said. "Many times. I don't think he's very much like a robot at all."

"Well, for one thing, he totally has that monotone thing going on, whenever he's not shouting." Lea screwed up her face to better imitate his voice as she said, "That low, grumbly, growly monotone thing." She relaxed her face and went back to her normal tone, laughing a little bit more at the absolutely perplexed expression on N's face. "And for another, didja see his eye? It's totally mechanical and stuff. Robot material if I've ever seen it. His lack of human emotion, along with that eye, just totally secures him for robot status. In fact, that's probably why he wants to separate humans from pokémon, really—because since he's a robot, he can't Train pokémon himself!" Lea snapped her fingers, and let out a triumphant laugh. "Yes! I've figured it out!"

"How would being a robot stop someone from Training pokémon?" Blair asked quietly, and the way he said it suggested that he did so before he could stop himself. Lea rolled her eyes.

"If he's a robot, he can't empathize with 'em and junk, and Professor Juniper always said that you have to be all empathetic or whatever to be a good Trainer. Duh. Seriously, Blair-bear, what classes did _you _take?"

"Good ones," Blair mumbled, and in his arms, Saphir turned to pat his chest sympathetically. N shook his head.

"Ghetsis isn't a robot," he insisted, and Lea huffed a sigh, wondering if she'd need to go even more in-depth with her explanation, "but that isn't the point. What about my other questions? What about pokémon Training appeals to you, Lea? Why do you oppose Team Plasma's goals?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Lea asked, and when N didn't answer her—but instead merely rocked backwards and forwards on the balls of his feet, awaiting her response—she went on. "'Cause pokémon Training is totally awesome, duh! I mean, think about it: I get to go on this journey, right? I get to travel across the world. And along the way, I catch pokémon, and so we travel together. And so after awhile, once I've got a bunch of pokémon, it's like on huge traveling party! Y'know? We're just a bunch of friends on a big road trip. It's totally kickin'.

"And I think that Team Plasma misses that part. They go on, and on, and on, and on—" she caught a _look _from Cheren out of the corner of her eye, "—and on about how we abuse pokémon, or whatever, but we don't. At least, I don't. And Cheren and Bi and Blair-bear here don't, either. We know better, yeah? I mean, we had to pass a bunch of classes and tests and junk just to even get our Trainer Licenses. So there's no way that we're gonna go and abuse our pokémon, dude. All that talk about slavery and all that is totally just completely out there. It's all crazy daisy up in here, if ya know what I mean."

N blinked, staring at her, and then shook his head. "No, I don't know what you mean," he said. "But that's all right. I'm not too interested in what you have to say, anyway." Lea gave him an odd look.

"Y'okay? Then why'd you—"

"I want to hear what your pokémon have to say." A meow from N's feet drew Lea's attention downward, and she saw that a purrloin was entwining itself around N's ankles, purring. Looking back up at N, she saw that he was smiling a thin smile, again. "I detest pokémon battles. Pokémon get hurt in them, often for no reason at all. But I also find that most Trainers only ever let their pokémon free _to _battle, and so it's the easiest way to get close to a Trainer's pokémon. So, Lea, will you release your pokémon to do battle with me? A one-on-one battle: this purrloin versus whichever pokémon you choose."

"Lea," Cheren said, a note of warning in his voice. The problem with giving Lea a warning, however, lay in the fact that she never listened to such things, because she tended to believe that she was superhuman, and superhumans had no use for warnings. With a grin, she reached down into her shirt, and pulled her lillipup's pokéball out from inside her sports bra.

"Sure! I've got no problem kickin' your ass in a battle. In fact, it'd be my pleasure." Pressing the center button once on Dogmeat's pokéball to maximize it, she windmilled her arm up and twisted her wrist to let the pokéball fly in a softball pitch. "Go and get 'em, Dogmeat!"

Dogmeat materialized in a flash of white light, and while N had frowned at the nickname, a smile graced his lips once again at the appearance of her lillipup. Dogmeat wagged his tail and barked twice before jumping forward, his eyes fixated on the purrloin at N's feet. The purrloin, seeing that Dogmeat intended to fight her, slunk forward, her tail lashing. Both pokémon seemed to be communicating in ways that none of the humans could understand, but for some reason unbeknownst to Lea, N was suddenly grinning again—a bright, energized grin that seemed exciting and off-kilter all at once.

"Fan_tas_tic," he said, and as he laughed quietly, the purrloin at his feet pounced.

The battle between Lea and N was over with quickly. It became apparent to Blair that Lea's battling style was the type where she made it up as she went along; she had no real strategy, and a part of him wondered if she had a real grasp on her pokémon's attacks; she seemed to call them out at random, and for the most part, Dogmeat ignored her and did his own thing, anyway.

Fortunately for her, N didn't command the purrloin at all. It attacked on its own, and anything he did say to it seemed to be more in the way of advice than anything else. As such, Dogmeat—as commanded by Lea—ended up winning the battle, which only ended because N scooped the purrloin into his arms before Dogmeat could attack it anymore.

Strangely to Blair, N didn't seem upset that he lost. He did seem upset about _something_– the way he stared at Lea seemed to suggest that, anyway – but his loss didn't seem to bother him. Not in the way that it should have.

He'd left quickly after that, and Cheren and Lea had gotten into an argument—Cheren insisting that N was a creep, Lea insisting that lots of people were creeps and that Cheren didn't need to pick fights that he probably couldn't win, anyway. With the two of them going at it, attracting the attention of the few people that decided to wander through the plaza, there wasn't much for Blair to say or do; it was for this reason that Bianca took him gently by the hand, and led him away from her two arguing friends, assuring him that sticking around wouldn't do much good, anyway.

"When they fight like this, they can go on for hours, sometimes," she'd said, and she laughed quietly. Toto was trotting along at her feet, by that point, and given that Saphir was tired, Blair had returned him to his pokéball. "It's just because Cheren cares a lot, but he's not too good at showing it, and Lea's real emotional, but she's not too good at telling the emotions of others. But it's all right; I know they'll understand each other in the end. They always do."

Blair had only nodded. He didn't know why she told him that, since he found it doubtful that he'd ever see any of them again, but he tucked the information away in the back of his mind regardless. Bianca led him past the Pokémon Center and—to his surprise and embarrassment—Route 1, and it was only once they were there that she had released his hand.

"Nuvema Town is straight down Route 1—you can't miss it, and you shouldn't get lost," she'd said, and he'd blushed a little, nodding. "I know it's getting a bit late, but you should be able to make it there and back before it's too dark. Be careful, okay, Blair?" Once again he'd nodded, and to his shock, Bianca gave him a hug before she returned to town. "I hope we get to meet again someday!"

He hadn't been able to bring himself to say goodbye to her in any form other than a wave, but although he hadn't been too crazy about sitting with her and her friends, running into Bianca or the others again wasn't an idea that sounded too terrible, the more he thought on it.

But the sun was already setting by that point, and so Blair had set off. As Bianca had promised, Nuvema Town wasn't far at all, and he'd managed to reach it by sundown, the setting sun casting an orange glow over the darkening sky. While Accumula Town tried to pretend that it was a city, Nuvema put up no such facade, and its small size—along with the fact that the laboratory was on the only hill in the town—made it easy for Blair to locate the lab he was looking for.

Finding the lab was the easy part, definitely. Working up the nerve to actually go inside was another matter altogether.

Blair stood outside of the large doors for about three minutes, taking a few deep breaths, trying to reason with himself that since he came all this way, it made no sense not to go inside. Finally, he made a compromise: he would ring the doorbell, and then wait for five minutes. If there was no response, then he'd leave, and come back the next day. Now that Bianca had shown him how to navigate Accumula's streets, returning the next day shouldn't present a problem. Steeling himself, Blair reached up and rang the doorbell.

To his surprise—and dismay—it wasn't a doorbell at all.

A soft _click _echoed in the evening air, a sound that signaled a door unlocking. Blair stared at the door handle uneasily, and though it went against his better judgment, he reached out and twisted it. To his complete lack of surprise, the handle twisted easily in his grip, and when he gave the door a light push, it swung open. He couldn't help but frown, and he hesitated before crossing the threshold. Who put a button that unlocked their front door on the outside of their laboratory? What if someone wanted to break in to rob the place? For all Professor Juniper knew, Blair could have been an ax-wielding sociopath—he could have wanted to murder her. Why would she allow him entrance so easily?

"Hello? Is someone there?" a woman's voice called, and Blair jumped a little, though he took a hesitant step inside. "Feel free to come on in! I'm working in the room to the right."

With the invitation—and his original purpose—Blair forced himself to enter the lab the rest of the way, shutting the door behind him. The lights were bright enough to make him blink a little as his eyes adjusted, and the floors gleamed, freshly polished. With his hands in his pullover pocket, Blair walked into the room to the right, which was occupied—just as the woman had said—by a single woman with toffee-colored hair styled in an up-do, a white lab coat thrown over her shoulders. She was standing by a large, circular machine surrounded by control panels, a little raised platform in the middle of it that seemed perfect for holding pokéballs. And, peeking out of the mountain of hair on her head . . .

"Um . . ." Blair licked his lips a bit nervously, especially as Professor Juniper turned to look at him, raising her eyebrows. It was rude to point, and he knew that, but he still couldn't help but raise a finger to point at the creature crawling out of her hair. "You have a weedle in your hair."

"Hm?" Professor Juniper rolled her eyes upward to look, and then laughed. "Oh, so I do. This little guy just likes to crawl everywhere." Weedle weren't exactly small, being about a foot long on average, but Blair didn't want to be the one to correct her on that. Professor Juniper plucked the weedle off her head as easily as if she was removing a hat, and gently set him on one of the side counters, where he proceeded to inch along the counter top. She was smiling. "I'm receiving a pretty large transport of Kanto-native pokémon to study," she explained, "and this weedle just so happened to be one of them. He's a bit of a young one—he probably shouldn't have been away from his hive just yet—but he'll grow." She continued to watch the weedle firmly, and Blair nodded, toying with the hem of his pullover. Eventually, Professor Juniper turned to look back at him.

"So, is there something you need, Blair?" He jumped a little as she addressed him directly, his eyes widening.

"U-Um, you—you know my name?" She laughed and rolled her eyes, though the gesture seemed more amused than annoyed.

"I _am _the one that printed your License. I would hope that I'd know your name, even if we never met officially in person." He flushed a little, and looked down at his shoes.

"O-Oh. Right." The silence stretched out before them again, like a treacherous desert, and Blair swallowed and forced himself to be the one to break it this time. "I—I wanted to say thank you, in person. For, um—for Saphir and—and my Pokédex and Trainer License." Blair didn't look up at her again, but when Professor Juniper spoke, he thought that he could hear a smile in her voice.

"You're very welcome, Blair, but you don't have to thank me. You earned it—all of it." Blair smiled a little, but his nerves kept him from smiling too much.

"S-Still. Thank you. You went out of your way to get them to me, and—and I really like Saphir, and—thank you, still. All the same." Blair chanced a glance up at Professor Juniper, and the fact that she _was _smiling at him—an amused, wry little smile—caused him to relax a little, and even smile a bit in return.

"As I said, you're welcome. But, you know, if you really are that grateful . . . you _could _do a little favor for me." Those words caused the smile to slip from Blair's face—not because he was opposed to doing her a favor, but because he was perplexed, and unsure of whether or not he actually could.

"U-Um . . . sure? What is it?"

"Well, as you know, I'm receiving an influx of Kanto-native pokémon to study at the moment." Professor Juniper made a motion with her hand for him to follow her, and so he did so, trailing behind her as she led him through the back rooms of the laboratory. "Most of these pokémon have only just hatched, which makes them prime for study. After all, if you study a pokémon from infancy, then you can monitor its growth and compare that growth to how pokémon in the wild grow. Furthermore, you don't have to worry about a sudden transition into captivity altering its behavioral patterns in any way. It's for this reason that many of the pokémon that we professors study have been born and raised in captivity, unless we're doing specific studies on pokémon in the wild. In other words, it's rare for us to go out and capture pokémon."

"Okay?"

"Right. Well, one of the pokémon I received today is—well, she's young. Just a filly, still. But she's just old enough that she's having the adjustment problem. She's not used to being in captivity, yet, and life in the lab isn't really something she's willing to adjust to."

The room that Professor Juniper led him to was in the very back of the lab, and was different from the other rooms. For one thing, the walls were padded, and seemed to be fitted with a special, heat proof material. For another, it was blocked off by gates.

Blair could see why.

Standing in the back of the room and watching them warily was a ponyta. Blair was no expert on pokémon (though he hoped to be at least kind-of one someday), but he could agree with Professor Juniper's assessment that it was young, especially as he pulled out his Pokèdex to digitally record an entry. Her coat was glossy, as if she'd been well cared for, but her legs were still skinny, even if she was strong enough to stand and walk on her own. The filly's eyes were a rich, chocolate colored brown, her fiery mane flickering around her face as her matching tail whipped a bit anxiously, and as she watched him, she let out a nervous snort and pawed at the floor with her front legs. Professor Juniper folded her arms across her chest.

"I'd love a chance to study a ponyta—really, I could. But within ten minutes having this little filly here, I could tell that staying wouldn't be good for her." Professor Juniper unhooked the gate and stepped through it, motioning for Blair to follow her. He did so, albeit reluctantly. "What she needs is a Trainer. I was planning on sending her back to Oak's lab in Kanto, but since you're here . . . well. How would you like a brand new ponyta, Blair?"

"M-Me?" Blair's voice shot up an octave, and Professor Juniper nodded. "I—I couldn't. I mean, I—s-she probably won't like me very much, and her mane will burn me—"

"Nonsense. How do you know she won't like you if you won't try? Have a little more confidence." Professor Juniper pushed Blair lightly toward the filly, though he hung back, watching the ponyta apprehensively. Professor Juniper sighed. "You know, one of my former students has too _much _confidence, whereas you have not enough. I think you two need to meet so you can borrow some from her."

"We have," Blair muttered, "and I can't." Professor Juniper seemed not to hear him.

"Go on and try to approach her, Blair. If she panics, I promise you don't have to keep her, but I think you'll be pleasantly surprised."

Blair sincerely doubted it. The most experience he had with pokémon before Saphir came in the form of his brother's pokémon, all of which seemed to enjoy attacking him. It was enough to make him even doubt that Saphir would like him before he had the fortune of meeting the oshawott (and the tepig and snivy that had been sent along with Saphir had seemed particularly disdainful of him—or at least, that's how he perceived them). Still, Professor Juniper didn't seem to want to let him leave without trying, and so with a heavy heart and the consolation that he did have some Burn Heal in his backpack, Blair walked forward, slowly extending a hand out before him.

Predictably, the ponyta tried to take a few steps back, tossing her head and whinnying softly in agitation. Blair faltered, yet then took another step forward, trying to coax her to him. "I-It's okay," he tried. "It's all right. I—I won't hurt you, I promise. I just . . . I want to be your—your friend, okay? I won't touch if you don't want me to, but . . . if you could, um . . . if you could trust me, then . . . then everything would be okay . . ."

He didn't dare get too close to the ponyta just in case he spooked her, but he continued to hold his trembling hand out, hoping that he wouldn't receive a flamethrower to the face for his efforts. The ponyta continued to watch him warily for a moment, but then—to his sheer astonishment—she walked a few paces forward, and slowly lowered her head to bump her nose against his hand, snorting as she sniffed at him. Blair patted her on the nose, and ran his hand up and down it. She snorted again, but this time the sound was almost happy, and he nearly jumped out of his skin as she lifted her head to lick his face. Professor Juniper laughed.

"There, you see?" she said. "She likes you. I figured you two would hit it off, given that you're both jumpy little mice." Blair frowned, thinking that neither of them looked or acted much like mice, though he didn't really have a chance to voice the thought aloud, especially as she handed him the ponyta's pokéball. "Make sure you take good care of her, Blair. Give her plenty of exercise. Oh, and she has a name already—Arion. Is that all right?"

"S-Sure." Blair looked back to the ponyta—Arion—and held the pokéball up. "Arion, return." Red light engulfed the horse pokémon, transporting her back into the ball, and Professor Juniper clapped him on the shoulder.

"I bet you weren't expecting to receive another pokémon when you came to thank me for the first, were you?" she asked, and Blair shook his head. "Well, Blair, you better get used to it. Because while I don't have any more pokémon to give you, something tells me that this is far from the last surprise you're going to get on your journey." With a grin, she turned to return to the previous room, and Blair followed after her, still holding Areion's pokéball tight in his hand.

As uneasy as it made him to admit it, he thought that she was probably right.


	3. Chapter Three

**Authors' Note: **Rating bumped up because of language and violence in future chapters.

* * *

"_Life is mostly froth and bubble,  
__Two things stand like stone:  
__Kindness in another's trouble,  
__Courage in your own." _–Adam Lindsay Gordon

**Chapter Three: Kindness and Courage**

* * *

The Striaton City orphanage had always been more for the parents, and less for the orphans.

Sixteen years ago, it wasn't in much better shape than it was currently. Sitting right off the main street, visible but pushed back and squeezed between two stone buildings, the grass was yellowed and dying, the sign chipped and covered in graffiti. Then, as now, the shrill voices and cries of children echoed from the open windows, but though they reached the street, they were ignored by passersby.

It wasn't about them.

Sixteen years ago, just a couple days after giving birth in the nearby hospital, a young woman stumbled up the steps, clutching her newborn son to her chest. The baby was taken and placed in a crib kept in a room with other orphaned infants; the woman—girl, really—was warmed with tea and reassurances until she had the strength to leave her baby behind.

That was the type of person the orphanage was for—the girl not ready to be a mother, the boy who had no interest in being a father. The orphanage stood to take children from those people, to tuck them away indoors where they couldn't be a burden on those who couldn't take care of them, so that they could be away from the society that would rather pretend they didn't exist. They were kept there, like pariahs or dark spots, until some kind souls came along to adopt them, to take them into warm homes. Some children were fortunate enough to be adopted early. Some were unfortunate enough never to be adopted at all.

Cheren was lucky enough to fall into the first category, though only just barely.

The orphanage had a sort of spell about it that caused anyone who passed it to barely spare it a glance as they walked by, the same going for anyone who stood close enough to it. Standing just inside the little gate that fenced off the yard from the rest of the street, Cheren was practically invisible to the people that passed just by him on the sidewalk, heading to the grocery store or the Trainer School, oblivious to his presence. It was just as well, as far as he was concerned; as he looked at the building where he spent the first six years of his life, his hands in fists in his jacket pockets, he needed the solace of solitude to build up his strength for what he was about to do.

He needed to do this. He knew that he needed it. But though he'd thought about it for months, though he'd prepared himself for it for just as long, that didn't make it any easier. Cheren took a deep breath, clenched his fists harder than ever, and then forced himself to walk down the lane and toward the concrete stairs, making each step purposeful and strong. Even if he felt nervous, he refused to let any of that show.

The second he opened the front door to the orphanage, the piercing sound of screaming children assaulted his ears even louder than it had through the open windows, and he grimaced, looking up at the old wooden stairs which spiraled to the second floor of the building. Pounding feet could be heard overhead, mixed with the sound of an argument between two young voices, and crying babies whose naps were likely disturbed by the racket. Having been adopted when he was six, Cheren didn't have too many memories of the orphanage, though there was still a certain of uncomfortable familiarity about the place, especially when he saw a little face peek at him from between the staircase banisters on the upper floor. He was just deciding whether or not he should wave back when a haggard, brisk voice spoke up from behind him.

"Sorry, we don't allow minors to adopt."

Cheren turned, and looked up into the wrinkled face of a woman no younger than fifty, who wore oversized red spectacles and had her greying hair tied back in an old-fashioned up-do. Cheren adjusted his own glasses to give him a moment to react to her statement, before he frowned and responded in kind.

"I'm not here to adopt." He couldn't help but feel a little disturbed at the prospect, for no matter how mature he tried to feel and act, he still didn't feel like a parent. "Do I look like I am?"

"No, and that's precisely why I won't allow you to," the woman said curtly. "Good day, young man." She gestured toward the door, implying he should leave, before she started across the foyer toward a door in an adjoining room. Cheren followed.

"Wait. I'm not here to adopt, but I'd still appreciate a moment of your time."

"We aren't hiring."

"I'm not looking for a job."

"Whatever you're selling, I'm not interested."

"I'm not selling anything, either."

The older woman stopped just outside of a heavy wooden door, and turned to face him with a stern stare. Cheren stood upright, matching her unwavering look with one of his own. "Then what _can _I assist you with, Mr.—?"

"Alabaster. My name is Cheren Alabaster." He watched her face carefully for a reaction, but none came. She merely clasped her hands over her waist.

"What can I help you with, Mr. Alabaster?"

"I was left at this orphanage as an infant," Cheren said, and as some orphans thundered around overhead, his heart started to beat a little quicker in anticipation of getting the answers he'd craved for so long. "Ten years ago, I was adopted. I came here in hopes you could give me information on my birth parents."

The woman gazed at him over the tops of her spectacles, giving him a shrewd look. "Do you have some sort of problem with your adoptive parents? You seem a bit old to be seeking alternative guardianship."

"No. My adoptive parents are fine." It was true, even though it felt strange to say the words aloud for reasons he didn't completely understand. "I just want to know who my birth parents are. Is it really that strange for an orphan to want to know where they come from?"

The woman opened her mouth, but at that moment, a loud crash—punctured with high pitched shrieks—exploded from the direction of the stairs. The woman narrowed her eyes over Cheren's shoulder, and started past him without another word, heading back toward the foyer. Cheren, knowing that he wouldn't get any answers right that moment and a bit curious about what disaster the orphans had just cooked up, followed.

A large wooden trunk was sitting at the bottom of the stairs, overflowing with clothes and two orphans. While it was impossible to know exactly what had happened without witnessing the event, the best assumption anyone could come to was that the children had attempted to slide down the staircase in the trunk, which had flipped and up-ended them onto the floor. Three more kids were crowded around at the foot of the stairs, staring at the trunk and the pair inside, before looking up at the woman with wide eyes.

"What do you think you're doing?" the woman demanded, her voice steadily increasing in volume. "What have I told you before? You're going to break something—"

"But Ms. Engreen!" one of the little orphan girls wailed, as the two orphans in the trunk hastily picked themselves out of the mess. "We were just—"

"Don't make excuses!" the woman, Ms. Engreen, snapped. The orphans winced. "I have told you all time and time again that you're not to play on the stairs, you're not to play with things that weigh more than you do, and you're supposed to keep it down and behave! Get your butts _back_ upstairs, take this—" She scooped up an armful of clothes and dropped them on the orphans' heads, "—mess back up with you, and _don't _make a sound until I get up there to give you your punishment! Do you understand me?"

"Yes, Ms. Engreen," the orphans chorused. Ms. Engreen pointed toward the stairs.

"Go!" The orphans, after scooping the clothes into their arms as best they could, turned and scrambled up the stairs, bolting like a pack of stray purrloin hastily escaping the pound catcher. The trunk remained where it was. Ms. Engreen heaved a sigh, turning to stalk back toward the door she'd been standing by before, and Cheren once again followed in her shadow.

"You're a bit harsh with them, aren't you?" The question was out of his mouth before he could stop himself from asking it. While his memories of the orphanage were fuzzy, some of the orphans in the little gaggle at the bottom of the staircase had been no older than five, and even if their schemes seemed to fit Lea's behavior more than his own, he couldn't help but empathize with them. Ms. Engreen stopped before the door, and turned to regard him with an almost withering look.

"Mr. Alabaster, when you have to care for thirty-five young children day in and day out, you can come tell me about how 'harsh' I am toward them." It was a fair point, and one Cheren would have acknowledged as such if she hadn't continued. "Anyway, you wanted to see if we had any information on your birth parents, yes?" Cheren nodded, his heart beating faster again, his mouth a little dry. She sighed. "Fine then. Come inside."

Pulling a set of old keys from inside her skirt pocket, Ms. Engreen unlocked the heavy wooden door, thereafter pushing it open. The room inside smelled of dust and lemon wood polish, and out of habit, Cheren shut the door behind them as he followed. The room was an old-fashion styled office; the rug was dark green with floral print, the chairs in front of the old oak desk hardback and wooden, with mauve, floral-print cushions. He sat down in one of them, and coughed a little as a bit of dust rose up around him. If Ms. Engreen noticed, she didn't show it.

"Now, let's see here . . ." She bent down and turned on the CPU of an aged computer, thereafter making herself comfortable in the tall-backed chair on the other side of the desk. The computer creaked and groaned as it turned on, the fan automatically whirring, and as she waited for it to boot up, she adjusted her glasses and looked at him again. "You said that your name is Cheren Alabaster, correct?"

"Yes," he said, nodding. She continued to watch him speculatively.

"Is that your birth name, or did your parents change your last name when they adopted you?"

"Cheren has been my given name since birth, but Alabaster is my adoptive parents' last name, yes." He hesitated. "Will . . . will you still be able to look up my information, even though I don't know what my actual last name is?" He hated feeling uncertain, and he tightly gripped the cushion of the chair he was seated on, willing the feeling to go away. He had no reason to feel uncertain—no need to feel weak. He was going to get the answers he wanted. _He was._

"Oh, yes." Ms. Engreen smiled thinly, and then looked to the old monitor, reaching for the mouse as she did so. "Believe me when I say we do have the resources for that here, especially when I am the one manning the files, so to speak. Though, I will say that you already know what your actual last name is."

Cheren frowned. "No, I don't. I just told you—"

"—that you don't know the last name of your birth parents, yes. But that doesn't make the last name you have now any less legitimate." Cheren didn't know how to respond to that, and so he didn't, choosing to stare at the items on her desk instead. Various papers covered the wooden surface, as did little wooden statues of different pokémon: an ursaring, a kangaskhan, the legendary pokémon Raikou— "Ah, here we go. Now, let's see . . . well, Mr. Alabaster, it seems as though you're in luck."

"Really?" He looked back up to meet her eyes, and she nodded, once again giving him a shrewd, pensive expression.

"It appears that your name is not very common—at least, not at our institution. You are the only 'Cheren' we have on record." His heart began to beat faster as she continued. "It seems as though we have information about your birth parents on record here, as well. Since you are of Training age, I can give this information to you, however . . ."

"However what?" he asked, and his voice came out a bit more demanding than he originally intended. Her gaze became a little sharper.

"It might not be what you want to hear. And before you interrupt and say that you understand, please listen closely, Mr. Alabaster." He closed his mouth, and nodded for her to continue. "You are not the first, nor will you be the last, orphan to step through these doors looking for his birth parents. You are not the first, nor will you be the last, orphan who will likely be disappointed by what he finds. Every orphan has a unique story, yet each one of those stories shares a common seed, and that common seed is that no orphan was left here by mistake. Except for those few whose biological parents died, each orphan was left here either because their parents could not take care of them, or did not _want _to take care of them. I tell you this not to be cruel, but to give you words of caution, Mr. Alabaster: your birth mother was very much alive and well when she left this orphanage. She was not sick. She was not dying. She left you here by choice." Cheren swallowed the lump in his throat as Ms. Engreen adjusted her glasses again. "Now, do you truly want the information necessary to seek her and your birth father out, knowing that you have two parents who have raised you since childhood waiting for you back home?"

Cheren took a deep breath. He could see the sense in what she was saying—could see quite clearly what she was trying to get at. His biological mother had abandoned him, and while there was a chance that his biological father hadn't even known that he existed, there was an equally good chance that his father had abandoned him, too. And his adoptive parents back in Nuvema Town did love him; though he'd never really connected with them, he supposed that was partially his fault, for always wondering where he came from, for thinking that he was originally destined a life somewhere bigger, greater than tiny, quiet Nuvema Town. He loved his adopted parents—he did—but he couldn't rest thinking that there was something more for him out there, that he was destined for something greater. There was some part of him missing, and as much as his adopted parents were his family, he needed to find that missing piece.

He nodded. "Yes. Please tell me what you know." Ms. Engreen sighed.

"So be it. But remember, I did warn you . . ."

* * *

If Striaton City was famous for any one thing, it was the Dreamyard.

It was funny, in a somewhat bewildering way, that the Dreamyard was so famous. People from all over Unova knew about it, at least to the point where you could ask someone if they'd heard about the Dreamyard, and they would most likely nod, a little bit of recognition lighting up their eyes. There were all sorts of different stories about the Dreamyard; some people said that it was forever covered in dream mist given off by the munna and musharna that lived there, and that if you wandered in, you may never escape the dream that the mist trapped you in. Others said that the grass was pink and made out of pure sugar, and that everything in the Dreamyard was edible, whether it looked to be or not. Still others said that it was whatever you wanted it to be, because the munna and musharna gave off just enough dream mist to create everyone's paradise.

As it turned out, none of those stories were true. The moment she reached Striaton City, Bianca headed straight for the Dreamyard, eager to see just what one of Unova's most famous landmarks held. She knew, if she was going to be serious about it, that none of the fantastic stories she'd heard growing up could be true, but there was still a small part of her that had hoped she'd find at least one extraordinary thing in the Dreamyard—just one.

Instead, it didn't seem inclined to live up to her expectations. Most of the textbooks she'd read that referenced the Dreamyard talked about the pokémon that lived inside—namely, munna and musharna. Well, they talked about munna and musharna or the old research facility that used to stand where the Dreamyard now was, abandoned for reasons that Bianca couldn't quite recall. Whatever the case, none of the texts talked about how the Dreamyard resembled an abandoned construction site more than anything else, with half-built, crumbling walls, and large, dusty, broken pipes strewn over the wild, uncontrollable grass.

There was no reason to be cautious, she knew—after all, she had her own pokémon to protect her—but Bianca still moved slowly through the Dreamyard—carefully—taking in every aspect of it. There was no dream mist in sight, nor were there any sugar flowers or rainbow butterfree, but the area still had a sort of mystic quality to it. As she trudged slowly through the grass, she strained her ears for the sound of a creeping pokémon nearby. After all, in addition to wanting to explore the Dreamyard for herself, Bianca had to admit that she also wanted to capture a munna. The pictures she'd seen in her textbook were so cute, and if she had the chance to capture one for herself, she—

A sudden shriek made her freeze in place, one foot poised over the grass, her head snapping in the direction of the cry. It wasn't a human shriek—of that, she was sure. The voice was too high pitched, the cry too unnatural, and it made the hair stand up on the back of her neck. But it wasn't fear of the scream that caused her to freeze, her heart suddenly hammering, but rather, the cause. She didn't know what had caused that pained squeal, but whatever it was, it was terrible.

Another high-pitched, keening noise broke through the relative silence of the Dreamyard, followed by angry shouting and even more crying. Bianca nearly tripped as she hastily made her way toward the crumbling wall, reaching into her purse for Toto's pokéball as she did so. There was no clear way past the wall, and so Bianca squeezed her way through one of the larger cracks as best she could, tugging on her skirt when it snagged on a piece of concrete jutting out from the wall. The shouts and cries were coming from just around a corner of an unfinished building, and when she rounded the corner and saw the reason for the commotion, she clapped her hands over her mouth.

The angry male voices belonged to a pair of men several years older than her, dressed in the same knight-like gear from the people who gave the demonstration in Accumula Town—Team Plasma, Bianca thought they were called, though she would admit that she wasn't certain. They were standing over a munna, trembling and terrified, squeezing itself down as close to the earth as it could get. Even from her distance, Bianca could tell that its breathing was labored, and she felt her heart squeeze and her eyes start to burn as the man on the left kicked the poor creature, knocking it right into his partner's boot.

"Stupid thing! Why won't you listen to what we say, huh?" the man demanded, as the munna's terrified whining grew louder. "Give us the damn dream mist already! What, we gotta bust it outta you like a candy out of a pinata? Huh?"

Bianca had never been the bravest of her friends. Lea had always been loud and bold, saying exactly what was on her mind the second her brain thought of it. Cheren had never been as loud, but he too managed to say what he thought and felt, even if he took a moment to think about it first. The most fighting Bianca had ever done had been against her own father when he forbade her to go on her journey, and though she'd stood up to and defied him by leaving anyway, there was still a large difference between facing someone you knew, and facing someone who barely even knew that you existed.

But as she clutched Toto's pokéball tightly in one hand and twisted her bag strap with the other, the Plasma grunt on the right stomped down onto the munna, causing it to writhe beneath his boot and howl in pain. Bianca felt something snap inside of her; whether it was her heart breaking for the poor creature being harmed right in front of her or her fear crumbling at her feet, she didn't know, but she was screeching even louder and more hysterically than the munna before she could help herself.

"Stop it!"

"Huh?" The two Plasma grunts looked up at her at last, seeming to forget the munna at their feet for a moment. The poor creature didn't have the strength to move away; instead, it merely curled up into a tighter ball. "Who are you?"

"I'm—you don't need to know that!" Bianca felt flustered, her heart drumming out a hummingbird-beat in her chest, but her voice was loud and clear as she spoke, her head held high. "Leave that munna alone! It hasn't done anything to deserve what you're doing to it!"

"Sure it has. It's not doing the one thing it's actually good for." The Plasma grunt on the right sounded casual, and he kicked the munna again, as if it was nothing more than a kickball they'd been toying with. This time, the munna didn't even cry, as though frightened that it would draw more harm to itself by making noise. Bianca took a step forward, clutching Toto's pokéball so tightly that part of her feared she might break it.

"I said _stop it_!" This time, her shout was shrill enough to cause the Plasma knights to wince a little, and the one on the left raised one hand to massage at his ear.

"Damn, girl. A voice like that, you'd be better off keeping your mouth shut."

"Yeah, and clear outta here, while you're at it," said the one on the right. Bianca noticed that he had red hair poking out from beneath his hood, and that the other had stubble around his chin—good features for identifying them later, if she got a chance to report them to the police. "This doesn't concern you, got it?"

"It does so long as you're hurting that munna." She was grateful for the fact that her voice didn't waver, but even as she silently acknowledged that fact, she told herself that her voice had no reason to waver. She had no reason to be scared. She was going to protect that munna and stand up to the Plasma knights just as Lea or Cheren would, if they were with her right then. "If anyone here should leave, it's you, before I make you."

The two Plasma knights stared at her for a moment before they shared a look, and then they burst out laughing. The redhead was laughing too hard to speak, and he nearly doubled over with the force of it, while the one with the five o'clock shadow managed to rein in his laughter just enough to choke out a few words. "_You_? Make _us_? Sorry, sweetheart. You've got a nice face, but we're not interested in any girl scout cookies today. Why don't you go back to Daddy and see if he'll take your sale sheet around his office for you, hm?"

Being laughed at was one thing. Bianca could handle that, because while being laughed at wasn't the best feeling in the world, it also wasn't the worst. The mention of her father, however, made her anger spike, giving her a rush that was unfamiliar, but not unwelcome. She pressed the center button on Toto's pokéball twice, bringing her lillipup out before her, and that seemed to surprise the Plasma knights enough to get them to stop laughing. Without wasting a beat, Bianca reached back into her purse to fish out Wotter's 'ball, and after pressing the center button once, she held it up.

"I _will _make you," she said, and she hoped that her glare was as intimidating as Cheren's could always be. "I won't let you hurt that munna anymore—I'll do whatever I have to in order to stop you!"

The Plasma grunts looked at each other again, and after a moment, the redhead nodded to his scruffy partner. "All right," the scruffy one said, and he pulled a pokéball off his belt. "If that's the way you want to play, girly, we can play." His lips curled around his teeth in a mocking leer, but if anything, that only fueled Bianca's resolve. "I like feisty girls, anyway. Patrat! Let's get this show on the road!"

True to form, a trembling little patrat appeared where the knight threw his pokéball, staring at Toto in terror. Bianca frowned, noting the lack of a nickname, along with the terrified appearance of the tiny creature shaking before her lillipup. She looked up at the Plasma grunt, her sympathy melting back into anger the second she laid eyes on him.

"That patrat isn't yours, is he? You stole him, didn't you?"

"Don't think so," he said breezily, and he shrugged as he put his hands into his pockets. His partner snorted. "Sure, maybe he had a different Trainer, once. But what's the difference between taking a pokémon from a Trainer and taking it from the wild? Either way, you end up with something that isn't yours."

"That's not true!" Bianca protested. "If you took that patrat from a Trainer, you took him from someone who loved and cared for him! You ripped two best friends apart! How could you be so cruel?"

"You see it as cruel, I see it as the circle of life. The strong see what they want, and they take it. It's what separates us from the weaklings."

There were several responses sitting on the tip of Bianca's tongue, but rather than say any of them, she looked back to the shaking patrat. She felt bad for him, she truly did, but a battle was a battle and she couldn't allow either of the Plasma knights to win. "I'll show you who's weak," she said instead, and then pointed at the patrat in front of her. "Toto, go! Use Tackle!"

Toto bounded forward, and the patrat barely had time to squeal in fright before Toto sent them both sprawling onto the grass. The scruff-faced Plasma knight shouted for his patrat to get up, but before it could scramble up from under Toto's paws, Bianca shouted, "Quick, um—use Bite!"

Toto latched his jaws down on the Patrat's shoulder, causing it to squeal in pain and writhe in duress. Bianca felt her heart squeeze, sympathy surging through her for the poor patrat clearly in pain, but when she looked up at the Plasma knight, she saw that his face was contorted in concentration; he wasn't giving up yet.

"Patrat, Bide," he snapped. Bianca looked back down to see that the patrat was no longer trying to twist out of Toto's hold, its muzzle tightly shut as it absorbed every bit of pain inflicted on it. Licking her lips, Bianca fumbled for a response before she called:

"Toto! Let him go and use Leer!"

Immediately, Toto bounded off the patrat, bounding back around to level its fiercest Leer. Truth be told, Toto didn't look very intimidating, with his little black nose and fuzzy face. But his Leer was just intimidating enough to startle the already shaken patrat, whose concentration slipped, letting the built up pain and energy fizzle out of his tense body.

"Stupid thing!" the Plasma knight shouted, and the patrat flinched. "I said to use Bide!"

"Toto, Tackle!" Before Bianca even finished shouting her command, Toto bounded forward, slamming his entire body weight into the patrat, which was knocked backward onto the grass. Whether it was because of pain or fear, the patrat didn't try to get up again; instead, he stayed where he was on the ground, whimpering and shaking. Bianca tore her eyes away from him, looking back to the Plasma knight, who returned his patrat with a wordless snarl.

"Stop this," she said, and she managed to keep her voice firm, but it was difficult. "I don't want to hurt your pokémon, especially since you stole him. Please, just stop—"

"I can't believe you can't even handle one stupid chick, Adrian," the red-haired Plasma knight spoke up. He had a pokéball in hand now, and Bianca pressed her lips together, not wanting to battle but knowing that she likely had no choice. "Here, you work on getting the dream mist, and I'll take care of this stupid bitch." With that, he tossed his pokéball down to the ground, revealing a wiry purrloin that was clearly on-edge. "Purrloin, Scratch!"

"Toto, get out of the way!" It was a pointless yell, and Bianca knew it; her lillipup was smart enough to not just stand around and receive a direct hit. All the same, she couldn't help yelling out little directions like that, and the instant that Toto was out of harm's way, she shouted, "Use Tackle!"

Just like with the patrat, Toto threw himself at the purrloin, sending them both down in a heap. Unlike with the patrat, the purrloin was vicious when terrified, and instantly began hissing and thrashing, claws extended. Toto yelped as a particularly nasty Scratch got him across his face, and Bianca—fearing a little for his safety, especially since Bite would be all but useless, hastily recalled him.

"Ready to give up, little girl?" the redhead asked, while the scruffy one—Adrian-smirked in satisfaction. Bianca shook her head.

"No. Never. Not as long as that poor munna is in danger." Dropping Toto's pokéball back into her purse, Bianca pulled her arm back and threw Wotter's into the air. "Come on out, Wotter, and use Water Gun!"

The second her oshawott was on the field, he followed her command, even though he could have only caught about half of it. A jet of powerful water crashed straight into the purrloin's face, causing it to yowl in misery and alarm, scampering away from him. The redhead shouted at it, but it ignored him, bolting straight for the tall grass.

"You stupid, mangy cat! Get the fuck back here!" The redhead tried to recall it, but it was gone before the pokéball could retrieve it. Instead of laughing as Lea might have, Bianca merely frowned at him, shaking her head in pity.

"He wasn't yours, either, was he? He was never yours, and you treat him horribly. It's no wonder he wanted to run away. Maybe if you would capture pokémon of your own, and treat them nicely—"

"Shut the fuck up," he snarled. His temper was clearly worse than his partner's, who was now watching them both with an expression of mingled wariness and irritation. Bianca stumbled backward as he started forward, his face starting to tint red. "You think we wanna hear any of your holier-than-thou, Disney princess bullshit? You think you have _any_ right getting in on _our _business?" At this point, Bianca was backed up against the crumbling wall, and the redhead pulled one fist back. She cringed, bracing herself for the blow as best she could, but before he could strike her, Wotter unleashed a Water Gun, striking him in the chest hard enough to knock him back against the grass.

"Wotter!" Bianca gasped, unable to say more due to the surge of emotions that hit her in that moment. Relief that he'd protected her, shock that he'd acted without her command, and fear about what was going to happen next, now that he'd attacked a human directly, breaking the law in the process. The red-haired Plasma grunt was clearly winded, clutching at his chest and gasping as he struggled to push himself up, but Bianca was only grateful that the damage wasn't worse. She took a step forward, to check on him, but Wotter placed himself protectively in front of her, and the other Plasma grunt—Adrian—shook his head.

"I wouldn't," he said, and there was a bite to his tone that made her take another step back. He looked to his partner. "We should get out of here. Without pokémon, we're out numbered."

"I—I could—" The redhead coughed, finally getting up to his feet, but as he looked at Wotter, his face twisted into an ugly scowl. "Fine," he spat. "We'll come back to get the fucking dream mist later." He looked to Bianca, and the rage in his face seemed to intensify, somehow. "You better hope you're not here when we get back, bitch. We'll make you wish you were gone." Wotter puffed his cheeks, as if to unleash another Water Gun, but the red-haired Plasma grunt beat a hasty retreat, slamming his fist into a half-finished building in rage as he went. Adrian paused, staring at her with an unreadable expression, before his eyes flickered up and down her form. He smirked, though there was no real humor in it.

"I'd heed his words if I were you, Cinderella. You won't have a pumpkin carriage to come rescue you if we happen to meet you again." He spun on his heel and headed after his partner, and although Bianca opened her mouth to retaliate, no words came to her until he was already out of sight.

"I-I'm not Cinderella!" Her shoulders slumped as she realized that her comeback was too little, too late, and she recalled Wotter back into his pokéball. "I always liked Belle more, anyway . . ."

The Dreamyard was quiet once again, save for the soft whimpers and labored breaths of the munna. Bianca dropped Wotter's pokéball back into her purse as she turned, almost surprised to see that the munna was still curled up on the grass, shaking so fiercely that its tremors were visible even from where she was standing. Immediately, Bianca went to it, kneeling down beside it on the grass as she began to rummage through her pack again.

"Shh, little one. Shhh . . . it's okay. It'll be okay. We'll fix you up right quick, and you'll be right as rain again, okay?" The munna made no response, of course, but though she started to search through her bag with increased desperation, she couldn't find any potions or super potions, having used them all in previous battles. Her berry pouch was woefully empty, too. She glanced at the munna, and then looked back to her bag.

It was wrong of her to do it, she knew.

The poor munna had been attacked and abused, its weakness a result of pure human cruelty rather than actual battle, and for her to take advantage of that to take the munna's freedom was wrong.

But there was no other way she could think of to help the poor thing, and it looked young—too young to be on its own. Bianca knew that certain species of pokémon would abandon their young if they had the scent of humans on them, and with the Plasma knights kicking the munna as they had, and with Bianca as close as she was now . . . she couldn't recall if munna and musharna abandoned their young like that, but with how beaten the munna was, she couldn't take the risk by just leaving it there.

"I'm really sorry, munna," she said, and she slowly pulled an empty pokéball out of her purse, pressing the center button once as she did so. The little pokémon slowly uncurled, looking up at her with terrified eyes. Bianca felt her heart sink at the look, almost losing her resolve, but the munna's injuries wouldn't go away just because she felt bad about them, and she knew that. "I promise, after you're better, if you want to have a real battle over this, we can. But for now—I just have to make sure that you'll be okay, okay? And to do that, I need to take you to the Pokémon Center. And to do _that _. . ." Bianca pursed her lips together, shut her eyes, and dropped the pokéball on the munna. The second the 'ball connected it opened, drawing the munna into it in a bright flash of red light, before it fell to the grass. Due to the munna's condition, it didn't wobble three times before it sealed, instead only wobbling once, feebly. "I'm so sorry."

Time was precious, even if the munna was safely inside of a pokéball, and so Bianca didn't waste another second before she scooped the pokéball up and ran as quickly as she could to Striaton City's Pokémon Center.

* * *

Professor Juniper had made it explicitly clear that she expected her students to complete their Pokédexes. Lea had made it explicitly clear that she had absolutely no intention of or desire to do that.

As such, instead of exploring the tall grass that surrounded Striaton City in order to capture new pokémon, Lea made her way to the League certified Gym. Well, that was a bit of an exaggeration; the truth was, Lea hadn't even known about the League or Gym Badges until some point after she'd entered the city, and wandered around it in increasing disappointment, seeing as how it wasn't like the hustling, bustling cities that she'd seen on television. _Well_, that wasn't quite right, either; the truth was she _did _know about the League, because she'd been forced to learn about it during lessons to pass the exam to get her Trainer License, but she'd forgotten that the League competition had existed until during the previously aforementioned wandering.

Striaton City was big. It was certainly bigger than Accumula Town, which—although it tried to pretend to be a city—really wasn't a city at all, and thus didn't have reputable size. And there was absolutely no contest between Striaton City and Nuvema Town, the latter of which looked like a closet in comparison. But although Striaton City was big, it wasn't easy to get lost; despite the fact that all of the streets were paved with grey concrete, and all of the buildings were monochromatic (either red brick or grey stone), the streets were wide, labeled clearly, and easy to follow. So while Lea had wanted to get lost in crowds, and had desired to lose herself among skyscrapers to have an adventure of epic proportions, she found that she grew bored of the city rather quickly.

That was what had led her to the Trainer School, completely by accident. Though she'd passed the Gym once or twice in her wanderings (three times, if you count the fact that she'd gone to a small diner down the street to grab a snack, and had spotted the Gym from the restaurant window), a sunglasses wearing man standing guard outside it had caused her to not pay too much attention to it—a fact that was weird if you considered the pokéball statues erected on either side of the stone stairs, and the fact that Lea usually had a craving to explore places she was expressly forbidden from entering. Either way, while the Gym hadn't caught her eye, the Trainer School had, and it likely had something to do with the colorful decals that were plastered on the windows depicting Master Balls and various pokémon.

Lea always did have a thing for bright colors and interesting pictures.

Of course, given who she was, entering the Trainer School had been a mistake. There had been a professor giving a lecture at the time—a woman named Fennel that Lea thought looked familiar for some reason—and she'd all but insisted that Lea sit down, saying that it wasn't a problem that Lea hadn't signed up for the lecture, and that they'd be more than happy to have her. Lea, of course, didn't want any part of it, but at that point everyone was staring at her, and Fennel looked so _friendly _and _welcoming_ and _eager _that Lea—already bored with the city and figuring she wouldn't miss much, anyway—sat down at a table in the back to appease her.

As Fennel returned to the lecture, making notes on the chalkboard and going over the basics of status ailments and the various effects they had on pokémon when inflicted, the only thing Lea could think was: _I've made a huge mistake._

Just as she had nearly every day spent in Professor Juniper's classes, Lea ended up falling asleep during Fennel's lecture, slumped over the table. At one point, as she lingered between a state of wakefulness and a state of sleep, she thought she heard someone whispering to her that she should wake up, and she felt a slight nudge against her leg. Unfortunately for whoever it was, Lea was a practiced in-class sleeper by this point—a pro, in fact, if one gave her the chance to boast—and she could even ignore Cheren's nagging (until he tipped her chair backwards and sent her sprawling on the floor, anyway). There was no way that a stranger would have even the slightest chance of rousing her.

Toward the end of the lecture, though, she did wake up, for part of being a practiced in-class sleeper was the ability to wake up five minutes before the class was supposed to end, to fool no one with an act of having been awake the entire time. The last five minutes of Fennel's lecture consisted of information about the League, about the different Gyms in the different cities, and how skilled Trainers could win League certified badges by being awesome (Lea's words, not Fennel's). The moment the word "win" left Fennel's mouth, Lea was sold; the idea of being able to show off her skill and strength as a Trainer was a compelling one, to the point where she was up and out of her seat before Fennel even had time to finish her conclusion.

The plan was to run to the Gym as quickly as she could, for even Lea could figure out which building in the city housed the Gym, even if her eyes had completely glossed over it earlier. Yet although she'd ignored the whispering voice and nudge on her leg earlier, the person who'd committed those acts hadn't ignored her; and although he was hardly the type of person to skip out on a lecture five minutes early, he seemed to make an exception for her.

"H-Hey, wait up! Lea!"

"Huh?" As dead set as she was on making it to the Gym, Lea could have ignored the call had the person merely asked her to wait. After all, she was never good at waiting, especially when ordered; one of the first things Professor Juniper had learned about her was that if Lea was told to sit still, she would be gone the first second she had the chance. But when she heard her name called, she turned automatically, spinning on the balls of her feet to raise her eyebrows at the person who called her name. If asked, she would say she was just curious, but she supposed there must have been something intimidating in her expression, because the boy standing a couple feet from her turned his brown eyes to the ground, tugging his baseball cap down to cover them further. "You're . . . that one jumpy dude. Blair, right? Did I get that right?" When he nodded, she asked, "What're you doing here?"

"I was in the school," he mumbled, and his answer was so quiet she almost didn't catch it. She leaned closer, hoping to have a better chance at hearing him. "I tried to say hi to you there, but you were, um . . . sleeping through the lesson . . ." His voice got quieter and quieter as he spoke, trailing off into nothing, and Lea huffed, tapping her foot on the ground.

"Hey, Mr. Mumbly? Yeah, I'm not catching a word of that. Speak up, would ya? Say what you've got to say loud, and proud!" She flailed her arms up for emphasis, yet although he looked up at her with a frown, he quickly looked away again and didn't seem to buy it. She rolled her eyes. "Or at least don't mumble. Seriously, where'd you pick up those people skills? 'Cause I think you should take 'em back and buy new ones."

"That doesn't make sense," Blair muttered. Lea shrugged.

"It works for me, anyway, and I've got kickass awesome people skills, if I do say so myself." Lea paused, and then laughed. "'Course, I'm kickass awesome all around, so I guess I got kinda lucky on that front, anyway." It was an opinion that might not have been shared by many, but if you asked Lea, her opinion on herself was the only one that mattered, anyway. "So, what'cha up to?"

"Huh? O-Oh . . ." Blair put his hands in the front pocket of his oversized pullover, and she could tell through the fabric that he was wringing his fingers. "Nothing, really, I was just . . . attending the lesson, and I . . . I thought—"

"Uh-huh, yeah, okay," Lea interrupted, and Blair frowned at her, though he didn't interrupt her in turn. "Listen, that's cool and all, but I've got places to be, and people to see, and ass to kick, and awesomeness to prove, and all that jazz, okay? So if you're gonna tell me what I'm sure was shaping up to be a really kickass awesome story, then you're gonna have to tell it on the road, and fast."

"The road?"

"Yeah. That road." Lea jerked a thumb over her shoulder at the street behind her. Blair craned his neck as though he was looking at the street before he locked eyes with her again, though he seemed to think better of it and looked back down at the pavement, instead. As far as Lea was concerned, there was really no getting around it: he was a total weirdo. "Well, that one, and then the one around the corner, and then the one around another corner. 'Cause that's where the Gym is, and I think it's high time I go and make the Gym Leader my betch."

"Um, there's—there's actually more than . . ." Blair trailed off, and a look not unlike a confused lillipup stole over his face. "Uh, wait. Your . . . your what, sorry?"

"My betch," Lea repeated, and she laughed outright as his expression only became more confused. "Don't worry about it if you don't get it, Blair-bear. I'm totally down with the fact that they might not have slang . . . uh, wherever it is you come from."

"Driftveil City," Blair supplied. "And we—we do have slang, but—"

"Yeah, yeah, that's nice." Once again, Lea cut him off, and she started walking backwards. Blair shoved his arms even further into his pullover pocket, worrying the fabric with his fingers, though he took a few hesitant steps after her. Lea grinned, and picked up her pace. "But c'mon, Boo, we've gotta hit the road! We've got places to be! People to see! Asses to kick! Badges to win! Awesomeness to prove! The jazz, Blair-bear—all of the jazz!"

"This has nothing to do with jazz," he protested, though it seemed to take him some effort to get the words out. Lea imagined him with a built-in microphone—with one that was attached to his head, so that it was always in front of his mouth to magnify his quiet voice—and that just made her grin widen. "And—and don't you think that's a bit, um . . . maybe you should, you know, turn around and watch where you're going . . ."

"Sure," Lea agreed, and she was almost jogging now, to the point where Blair had to pick up his own pace to keep up. "But only if ya race me." His eyes widened.

"Wh-What?"

"Race me, Blair-bear! Put some hustle in your muscle—let's roll!" With that, Lea spun on her heel and took off. This time, though he shouted both protests and her name, she didn't stop. She _couldn't _stop—not once her excitement to reach the Gym and win a badge combined with her sudden urge to see just what Blair Coalsen happened to be made of. Both urges were far too powerful, especially when mixed together.

And beyond that, Lea simply liked to run.

She was athletic in general, enjoying all types of sports and physical activities, but there was something special about running—just running, letting everything go and pushing her body to its limit. There were dangers associated with it, of course; even in that moment she had to dodge around people, push others out of the way, and many people shouted protests, screamed at her to stop. But she couldn't hear their protests, not really; not when she was focusing on her breathing, keeping it at an even, steady pace, and not when adrenaline was making her muscles burn and her heart pound. There was nothing else like this feeling, Lea was sure, nothing else in the universe. Nothing like the feeling of letting go, of being free. Not even a victory after a particularly hard fought battle could feel this liberating, this _exhilarating_. Of that, Lea was one hundred percent sure.

So in-tune was she with her inner thoughts when she was running, however, that she accidentally passed the Gym, running right by it and passing two other buildings before she realized her mistake. She skidded to a stop, nearly toppling over as she hastily stopped her progress, before she doubled back and sprinted toward one of the brass pokéball statues, smacking her palm against it once she reached it. She was panting, of course—she'd sprinted the entire way, sparing absolutely no thought for pacing herself, or for endurance—but she wasn't breathing as hard as Blair, who was just coming to a stop in front of the stairs as she made it back to the statue, placing his hands on his knees as he panted. Lea grinned at him as she swiped an arm across her sweaty forehead, shoving her bangs out of her eyes.

"You . . . are out of shape," she said, and he looked up at her with a disgruntled frown.

"Am . . . not."

"Are too. You need to work in your breathing. That's all running is—it's all in your breathing!" Lea bounced from foot to foot, still grinning, but Blair's frown didn't even twitch.

"I just . . . there was no need to . . ." He shook his head, clearly fighting to get his breathing back under control, and stole a glance up at the Gym. "A-Anyway, we're here."

"Yeah, I can see that." Lea turned to look up at the Gym, and she placed a hand over her eyes to shade them, even though there was no real need.

Truth be told, the Gym didn't look that intimidating—at least, not from the outside. It was a little building made out of red and grey brick (as though it couldn't decide which to use), with a narrow stone, grey staircase that led up to two heavy wooden doors. A dark blue awning was hung over the doorway, reminding Lea of restaurants that she'd seen on television, back when she actually bothered to watch sitcoms.

But then, even if the Gym wasn't intimidating from the outside, it had to be intimidating on the inside, didn't it? Lea grinned as a thousand possibilities ran through her mind. Vast gladiator arenas, where she could personally battle alongside her pokémon until they were crowned champions . . .

"All right!" Lea punched the air and spun on the spot, her sudden shout causing Blair to jump. "Let's do this thing! It's time to kick ass and take names, Blair-bear, and I suck at remembering names!" She took the stone stairs two at a time, but paused as she reached the top, her hand gripping the brass handle as she looked back at him. "Oh, wait, actually, you never said—you wanna kick ass and take names too, right? Got some awesomeness to prove?"

"I . . ." Blair trailed off, his eyes flickering to the Gym, to her, and back again. Finally, he settled for looking at his feet. "Yeah," he said quietly. "I . . . want to." Lea grinned.

"Great! Then get up here. We can enter together. You just better hope the Gym Leader's not too busy sobbing after battling with me to battle with you. I'd hate to have to take away your chance at awesomeness proving just because _my_ awesomeness is off the charts." As Lea twisted the handle and pulled the door open, Blair walked up the steps to stand just behind her.

"Well, actually, it's, um . . . it's like I was trying to say earlier—"

"Whoa." If Lea realized she was interrupting Blair, she didn't show it. With the doors open, the two of them had walked a few paces into the Gym, but a few steps was all she needed. She stopped, one arm out to stop Blair from walking in further, her wide blue eyes taking in every sight. "Whoa. _Whoa_. What the Hell is this?"

It was a far cry from gladiatorial arenas, and that alone meant that, to Lea, it didn't look anything like a Pokémon League Gym. To start with, instead of having hard, concrete or dirt arena flooring, the floor was covered in plush dark red carpet. The walls, instead of being oval, concrete arena walls, were covered in a floral print wallpaper depicting various pokémon elemental signs: fire, water, and grass. The lighting wasn't the bright, florescent lighting expected out of arenas, but was instead warm and soft, lit by golden chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. And instead of being a bare, oval arena, the small room they were standing in was a rectangle, which had an open archway that led to a larger square room. The larger square room seemed to be filled with tables, each holding a small vase with flowers, chairs stationed around them, while the room they were in held a podium with a chalkboard next to it. The chalkboard listed various food items, which were apparently "menu specials," while the podium had a man standing next to it, donning sunglasses and a host's uniform. As Lea locked her eyes on his face, he smiled pleasantly, and pulled two laminated menus out from the podium.

"Greetings, and welcome to the Striaton City Gym. Will it just be you two joining us this evening?"

"Uh . . . yes?" Lea said, caught off guard by his question. She dropped her arm to her side and looked at Blair, who shrugged helplessly back at her. The sunglasses wearing man—the host, Lea supposed, though she was really starting to wonder if 'Striaton City Gym' was a restaurant name instead of League certified building—smiled and stepped away from the podium, motioning for them to walk forward.

"Right this way, then, please. I'll show you to your table."

"Our table? Uh, no. Hold up there, cowboy. Back that golf cart right on up." Blair tried to walk forward, but Lea grabbed his wrist and tugged him back. The host raised his eyebrows over his sunglasses. "We're looking for the _Gym_. Y'know, that place where you have pokémon battles, for badges? If this isn't the right place, then we're gonna bounce, 'cause we've got battles to win, and badges to get, and all that good stuff." The host watched for a moment before he laughed, and adjusted the sunglasses on his face.

"I take it this is your first Gym challenge, then. Am I right?" Lea let go of Blair's wrist to cross her arms, raising her chin in defiance of what she perceived as a slight against her skill. After all, just because she _was_ a newbie didn't mean she wanted to be _treated _like one.

"What makes you say—"

"Yes," Blair spoke up, and though his voice was softer than hers, she still cut off her speech when he spoke. He seemed to notice this, and he ducked his head. "S-Sorry." The host laughed again, though not unkindly.

"No need for apologies. This Gym is often the first stop for new Trainers." The host cleared his throat a little, and straightened his posture. "As you well know, in order to gain admittance into the Pokémon League, Trainers must earn badges from eight League certified Gyms. However, while each of these badges must be earned through victory in battle against the Gym Leaders, each Gym in Unova also offers a different, preliminary challenge, designed to test a Trainer's merit; their poise, wit, creativity, courage, and so on. If, and only if, a Trainer can pass the preliminary tests will he or she be awarded a battle. After all," the host smiled, "earning badges to enter the League is about more than how strong your pokémon are. It is only fair to test you, as well."

Lea punched one fist into her other hand. "Sounds awesome. Test me all you want—I can take it. No problemo, Georgerano." She paused as his words finished processing in her brain, and frowned. "But, hold up—you said that we have to be tested, right? So what part of testing our merit and stuff explains why this place looks like a restaurant? 'Cause seriously, as much as I'm totally craving some breadsticks right now, I don't think a pie eating contest shows that I have merit for anything other than wolfing down some chocolate cream slices." The host laughed.

"But of course it does. For their test, the Leaders of this Gym have decided that Trainers must prove they have the poise to make it graciously through a three course dinner at an upper-scale restaurant. Not only will this demonstrate that the Trainers that face them have grace and culture, but it also allows them to cook to their hearts content while being Gym Leaders at the same time." He smiled. "A fair trade, wouldn't you say?"

Lea considered. "This full course meal thing—it's free?"

"Absolutely."

"Then hell yeah, I'm totally in, sign me up!" Lea turned to Blair and beamed, even as he ducked his head down and tugged the bill of his baseball cap down to hide his eyes. "Hey Blair, let's go get some grub!" His only response was to nod, so she took his wrist again to drag him after her, following the host to one of the tables in the very center of the room. Lea plopped down in one of the chairs, while Blair cautiously sat down in the chair across from her, and the host stood by their table, waiting until they were settled to speak again.

"For this test, you are allowed to order anything off the menu that you would like, so long as you proceed in the proper meal order." Lea frowned, wondering what a 'proper meal order' was, but he continued before she could ask. "You will be evaluated in this test by how you progress through the meal. Your table manners, proper use of cutlery, and so on. Here are your menus," he deposited one menu in front of each of them, "and your waitress will be here shortly. Thank you, and I hope you enjoy your meals." With that, he turned to head back to the podium in the front room, and Lea turned her frown on Blair.

"What's all that jibber-jabber supposed to mean? What's a 'proper meal order?'" She made air-quotes to accentuate her point, and Blair tentatively picked up his menu, though he spared a couple glances at her over the top of it.

"Um, well, you know, it's like . . ." He looked back down at the menu, and Lea put her arms on the table, leaning forward to try and hear him better. "Soup and salad . . . that sort of thing." She raised an eyebrow.

"Uh, I don't think soup and salad is a meal order."

"W-Well, you start with the soup or salad, and then you go onto the main course, and then . . . dessert and stuff . . ." Blair stole another look at her over the top of the menu, and Lea grinned at him, until she saw that his expression became mildly alarmed. "Lea, um . . ." He waved a hand at her, and when she just raised an eyebrow at him, he added in a tiny voice, "You should . . . sit back . . ."

"Huh?" She pulled back as requested, and when she saw that he was shooting alarmed glances at her arms, she pulled them back and set her hands in her lap. "Why? Why're you tweaking?"

"It's—it's bad manners." He sighed, and she crossed her arms, wondering if she should be offended by the sigh or not.

"Well, how was I supposed to know that? Jeez, talk about a test—what, did you study about this beforehand, or something? Did that Fennel lady talk about it in her lesson?" Lea picked up her menu, yet then noticed several bundles of silverware by her cloth place mat. She eyed them suspiciously. "And what was the dude saying before, about 'cutlery,' or something like that? He meant silverware, right?" She looked up in time to see Blair nod. "'Proper use' of it, or something. What's that supposed to mean? Am I seriously gonna be graded on how to hold a fork?" She set her menu down to hastily unwrap the bundles of silverware, and in addition to fancy cloth napkins, she found that she had several forks, several spoons, and several knives. "And why do we have duplicates of everything?"

Blair leaned across the table, though he didn't put his arms on it, and frowned a little. "There aren't any duplicates," he said quietly. "Just different types." Lea gave him a flat look.

"Different types?" He nodded. "What do we need different types for? Who even does that?"

"Nice restaurants," he said, and seemed to think better of it at something in her expression, for he quickly looked down at his menu again. "Um, i-in Driftveil, some of the different restaurants there are set up like this. It's—I hear it's common in other cities, too."

"Well, listen, city boy," Lea said, and she picked up one fork to wag it in his direction. If the way he cringed was anything to go by, it was the wrong thing to do. "I'm just a small town girl—"

"_Livin' in a lonely world_," Blair sang under his breath. Lea stared at him until he blushed again, and ducked his head down, the bill of his baseball cap once again hiding his eyes. She shook her head, deciding to let it pass.

"The only restaurant I have any experience with is the Hometown Country Buffet down the street from my house, okay? It was pretty much the only restaurant in Nuvema Town—and I mean the _only _restaurant, I mean, you were there, you saw! It's the only one! The onliest one!"

"Yeah, I got it," Blair said quietly.

"So if were gonna have a successful date, here, then you're gonna have to help me figure out which fork to use, and stuff, 'cause I have no id—"

Her sentence was interrupted by Blair, who jumped so badly that his knees slammed into the table. This caused the slim vase holding the rose to fall on its side, rolling toward the edge. Fortunately, Lea's quick reflexes allowed her to catch it as it fell, and she placed it back on the table before she raised her eyebrows at Blair.

"Jeez, Jumpy, what's got into you?"

"D-D-Date?" he stammered, sitting rigid in his chair. "This isn't—it's not—"

"Well, we're sitting down for dinner together, right? Isn't that what people do on dates?" Lea kicked her feet against the legs of her chair, causing a rhythmic _thud _to fill the silence since Blair seemed incapable of speech. "That's what I always saw on TV, anyway. It was always dinner and a movie, and while I'm not interested in sitting through some boring movie, I'm totally down for some grub, especially if I can win a Gym Badge after. So!" Lea pounded on fist on the table, causing Blair to jump again. "We've gotta make it through this date together, got it? 'Cause if I fail this stupid test and don't get to battle for my Gym Badge, then this'll be the worst date ever and I'll make sure everyone knows it."

Blair continued to stare at her, face red, looking borderline horrified. His lack of a response almost made Lea wonder if she'd broken him (in which case, if he was broken that easily, he truly _was _the worst date ever), but she didn't have a chance to ask before a perky waitress bounced over to their table, notepad in hand.

"Hello! My name's Erma, and I'll be your server for this evening. What can I get started for you?"

Lea had barely glanced at her menu since she'd gotten it, and while Blair was staring at his, he was also trembling a little, his face still red. Lea considered him a moment before she looked to Erma and offered her best smile.

"I think my date's—" Blair jumped a little again, though he thankfully didn't almost manage to break the vase this time, "—broken, so we're gonna need a minute."

* * *

By Lea's standards, the rest of the dinner was actually pretty all right. The food, for one, was fantastic; the broccoli cheddar soup was delicious, her strip steak practically melted in her mouth, her cheesy potatoes were the cheesiest she'd ever had them, and her molten chocolate cake was the sweetest thing she'd had all month. Blair hadn't talked much throughout the dinner, except when she asked him which silverware she should be using (why it mattered she'd never know, but even if the Gym Leaders were freaks who cared about that sort of stupid thing, they made heavenly food, so she could forgive them), but considering her own mouth was consistently full of food, she could forgive him for that, too.

In any event, once the dishes were cleared away, the host—though he frowned at the way Lea wiped her mouth on her wrist instead of using a napkin—informed them that they passed (though barely, in Lea's case, but to her a pass was a pass and that was all that ever mattered), and led them away from the tables toward a swinging door in the back. The door led to the kitchen, and although Lea would have been perfectly content to sit in there and eat more food (she explained to Blair that she had backup stomachs for this sort of emergency situation), the host lead them through another door in the back, down a wooden staircase, and into what first appeared to be a storage room, yet—once the lights were turned on—turned out to be an arena.

And standing on the other side of that arena were three boys not that much older than them.

"Wow," Lea said, blinking as she stared at them, each one dressed in an outfit similar to the host's. "Did you guys accidentally mistake Kool-Aid for your shampoo?"

"Excuse me?" the blue-haired one asked, as the host turned and left the arena, and Blair pulled his hat down to hide his eyes. Lea shrugged.

"I'm just sayin', you guys look like triplets or something, but your hair is all whacky. So either two of you dyed your hair, or you all did, in which case, major props!" She gave them a thumbs-up. "I always wanted to dye my hair purple, but Cheren was always a major killjoy about it. He was always like, 'your hair is too dark, it won't even look that bright, Whitlea,' and I was always like, 'I can make it look that bright if I want, Cherry-berry,' and he was like, 'It won't look like that because your hair is too dark, and anyway it would look stupid, and you're stupid for not realizing that,' and I was like—"

"_Excuse me_," the blue-haired one said again, though this time it was in the form of a loud interruption rather than an indignant question. Lea shut her mouth and he huffed, demonstrating (to her, at least) that he had an even shorter fuse than the aforementioned Cheren. "Are you here for a Gym battle, or aren't you?"

"You bet your blue ass I am," Lea said, and though Blair pulled his hat down so far it threatened to engulf his face completely, the red-haired Gym Leader burst into laughter.

"Oh, wow. This chick is a hot fucking mess." He looked her up and down, and flashed her a wolfish grin. "Emphasis on the hot. Ten side orders of crazy you may be, babe, but I can still dish you up some hot lovin' after all this if you—"

"Chili, what have I said about the jailbait?" the blue-haired Gym Leader said through gritted teeth. Chili rolled his eyes.

"How should I know? Like you're so fond of saying, I never listen to a damn thing you say. Anyway, Cress, you don't know if she's jailbait or not." Chili looked back over at Lea, grinning again. "Hey, hot mess. You jailbait?"

"Dude, I don't even know what that means at this point, and so long as I get to kick your ass in a battle, I don't even care," Lea said, and Cress shot his brother a cold look.

"That means she's jailbait."

"It does not! Don't put words in her mouth!"

"_Anyway_, we are the Gym Leaders of the Striaton City Gym." Blair finally looked up as Cress addressed them formally, and Chili crossed his arms in an angry sulk as his proposition was shut down. "I am Cress, a water-type Trainer. The cad to my left is my brother, Chili, a fire-type Trainer, and to my right is our other brother, Cilan, a grass-type Trainer." The green-haired boy on Cress' right raised his hand in a little wave, but after looking them over again, Lea started laughing. "May I ask what you find so funny?"

"Dude, your types match your hair colors!" Lea crowed. "You're all color coded and junk! That's so cheesy!" She began laughing harder as Cress' cheeks tinted pink in what she perceived to be embarrassment, and Chili took a couple steps forward.

"Yeah? Well, listen, hot mess, I can show you just how _cheesy _things can get if you wanna take a steamy little tumble between the sheets la—"

"Jailbait, Chili!" Cress snapped, and turned back to Lea as her laughter finally began to subside. "Our appearances have no bearing on our skills as Trainers, and so we'll thank you to keep your commentary to yourself. State your name and the type of the first pokémon you ever chose to Train." Lea choked back the last of her laughter, cleared her throat, and reached inside of her shirt to pull out Ganon's pokéball (an action that made Chili start howling with laughter of his own).

"My name's Lea, from the town of Nuvema! And for my first pokémon . . ." She started winding her arm in a softball pitch, causing Blair to stumble away from her to avoid being smacked. "Go, fire piggy!" Chili only laughed harder at her battle cry, and as Ganon materialized on the battlefield before them, Cress stepped forward.

"Then that means I am to be your opponent for this match. Before we begin, however, the other challenger should introduce himself, so we can be adequately prepared for his match." Cress' cold eyes focused on Blair, who seemed to fumble a bit after being put on the spot, yet finally managed to speak.

"I-I'm Blair Coalsen, from Driftveil City. U-Um, my first pokémon was, um . . . oshawott. A water-type."

"Then that makes Cilan your opponent." Cress glanced back at Cilan, who—like Blair—suddenly appeared to be very on-the-spot, and very nervous.

"N-Nice to meet you," he stammered, nodding to Blair. "I hope that we, ah, can have a good match." Chili groaned.

"Great. A baby buneary verse a baby buneary, and I don't get to battle at _all_. This sucks, man." Cress rolled his eyes, selecting a pokéball from the 'belt around his waist.

"Then why don't you make yourself useful and go clean the kitchen? There are still dishes to be washed and surfaces to be sanitized." Chili scoffed, but nonetheless started to walk toward the exit. As he sauntered by her, he spared Lea a wolfish grin.

"Would rather sanitize _you_, hot mess." Lea grinned back, though she wasn't sure what his comment was supposed to mean (and didn't really care enough to find out), and Cress—seeming to finally have had enough of his brother for one evening—shouted:

"Chili, _out_!"

"I'm going, I'm going!" Chili's shout was punctuated with the door slamming shut, and Lea looked back around to see Cress holding a pokéball in his hand.

"Now, Lea. Are you ready to begin?"

"You betcha! Let's get this show on the road! 'Cause I've got a whole can of whoopass just waiting to be opened!" Blair mumbled something she couldn't hear, and Cress smirked as he tossed his pokéball into the air.

"Very well. Let's begin!"


	4. Chapter Four

**Authors' Note: **The version of the Shadow Triad I'm using is the same from my other fic, Absolute, which was written long before B2/W2 came out and details about the Shadow Triad were confirmed. Though my version no longer jives with canon, I prefer it, and so I'm using it anyway. Reading Absolute is certainly not instrumental to understanding their presence here, though I would still recommend giving it a shot.

* * *

_"If you want to be a nonconformist, just dress like us, and listen to the same music we do."_ -Goth Kid, _South Park_

_"There are big ships and small ships, but the best ship of all is friendship." _-Author Unknown

**Chapter Four: Robbing a Museum is so Mainstream**

* * *

A person could search throughout the whole of Unova—perhaps the whole of the world—and still they would never find another city quite like Nacrene.

There were many things that set Nacrene City apart from others. For one, although the roads were paved with dark grey asphalt, they were worn down and scuffed. It was clear that the streets needed to be repaired, if the large cracks running through them were any indication, and yet there was no rush to have this done, for the citizens remained happy with the streets the way they were. Ask any older Nacrene citizen, and he or she would tell you that the worn down roads held character and history. Ask any younger Nacrene citizen, and he or she would tell you that modern, freshly paved roads were far too mainstream, and there was no need to go crying for them like a brainwashed mareep.

Another thing that set Nacrene City apart from other cities was the fact that nearly every single building was a warehouse. Of course, they weren't _actually _warehouses, not anymore—for factories and warehouses were part of The Machine, and there wasn't a single Nacrene City resident that wanted any part of that. But still, the warehouses stood, constructed out of dark red brick or metal, the floors light grey concrete, the walls unfinished. These were the houses in which the people lived—not singular houses, of course, but multiple bedrooms, bathrooms, and kitchens all in one. One warehouse could house at least three families, on average. And the same held true for the restaurants, the shops, the art studios, the coffee shops; every family lived in an old warehouse, every business operated out of one. And while the warehouses were old, and not traditional in the slightest, the people would defend them to the last. For after all, even though each warehouse looked the exact same from the outside, they were all unique.

Then, of course, there were the train tracks that wrapped around the town—train tracks which no longer served much purpose, but stayed because the citizens couldn't bear to part with them. There were the young street musicians on every corner who strummed the same three chords of an overplayed rock song because they didn't know any others, the teenagers that puffed cigarettes while refusing to eat or drink anything that wasn't organic, the people who wore three hundred pokèdollar jeans that were designed to look as though they were five dollars at the local thrift store, and the fact that every citizen could be seen sporting a scarf and a fedora even on the hottest days of summer.

Yes, it would certainly be a challenge to find another city like Nacrene elsewhere in Unova, and for that, the rest of Unova's citizens were quite grateful.

There was one building, however, that didn't quite fit in with the rest of Nacrene's culture, and that was the Nacrene City Museum. Standing in the very back of the city, and constructed from proud marble, the Nacrene City Museum looked pristine and fresh—which meant, naturally, that most of Nacrene City's residents tried to either pretend it didn't exist, or dismiss it with an insulting comment about it being a tourist eyesore. Nevertheless, the Nacrene City Museum—and, therefore, the Pokémon League Gym constructed in the back of it—was by far the most impressive building in Nacrene City, simply by virtue of the fact that, when placed among a sea of identical warehouses, it was the only one that stood out.

The inside of the museum was, of course, as vastly different from the rest of the city as the outside. The carpet was blue and plush, with little silver star designs on it. The walls were made from gleaming wood paneling, and bright white lights lit up every exhibit: the large dragonite skeleton in the very center, the silver, oddly scripted tablet propped up along the back wall. Red velvet ropes kept the exhibits just out of reach of anyone who visited the museum, though the exhibits were still close enough to touch, and the ropes were mainly there was a psychological deterrent.

Of course, psychological deterrents only worked if one understood basic human psychology, and for those who didn't—and who didn't choose to care—they were mostly a wasted effort.

"Hm. Interesting." N leaned closer to a stack of three bone clubs on display, examining them with a little smile as his green eyes flicked down to the identification plate. "The museum curator doesn't seem to be able to identify which pokémon carried these clubs. Admittedly, they look a bit different, but they aren't _too _different from the type cubone and marowak carry. Perhaps the curator is confused because cubone and marowak aren't indigenous to Unova?" His smiled turned into something of a smirk. "That's so sad."

He stepped back from the bone clubs and lightly moved down the aisle, closer to a floor-to-ceiling silver tablet, engraved with alien-like markings. Just behind him trailed three others, all wearing identical white coats with hoods, their movements in sync even though they were just far enough apart to provide adequate protection for him. At a glance, due to their identical clothing and synced movements, the three looked perfectly identical. But a closer examination would allow anyone to see that the one in the center was the tallest, with strong, broad shoulders. The one to his right was shorter and slimmer, and the one to his left was about the same height as the one on his right, though skinnier still, and he had the bottom of his coat brought up to hide the lower half of his face as well.

It was the one in the center that spoke up as N came to a stop in front of the silver tablet, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet, staring up at the glossy surface. The tallest member of the Shadow Triad had a deep voice, smooth and seemingly devoid of emotion, though with a note of firmness that couldn't be missed.

"Lord N, we were instructed to escort you here so that you could locate the legendary pokémon. I'm not sure examining these exhibits has any relevance to that."

"How can you say that? Any one of these exhibits could hold an important clue. If these are really as historically important as this museum would like to suggest, then it stands to reason that I could have something to learn from them." N reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a pair of plastic, black framed glasses, which he slipped on as he leaned closer to examine the writing on the tablet. "Unova is full of history, and that doesn't _just_ extend to the legend of the hero. If I want to _be_ that hero, then I should learn as much as I can, surround myself with the locals. Really get a taste of what Unova has to offer. Not that the _humans _can offer much, but I should still take what little they have."

The Shadow Triad didn't bristle or move—didn't show any indication that what N said bothered them. The one on the right, however, did speak up after a moment, and perhaps to the surprise of some, the voice that spoke was feminine, and perhaps just a touch annoyed.

"Lord N, I don't recall you ever needing vision correction."

"Hm?" N spun around, touching the glasses by their stem, and smiled as he peered at her over the top of the frames. "Oh, that's because I don't. But I've found that wearing glasses like these is considered fashionable. At least, that's what I saw when observing the humans." He spun back around to peer at the tablet for a moment longer through the glasses before he turned from it, tripping along toward an exhibit on the opposite end of the room. The member of the Shadow Triad on the left twitched a little, though the three tagged along behind him all the same. "I don't really care about being fashionable. It isn't my job to make the humans like me. But wearing these glasses is . . . fun. It reminds me of a man I saw in a box."

"A man in a box?" the female Shadow Triad member asked. He smiled as he reached an exhibit up against the wall—a small, silvery white stone, looking unremarkable amongst the other exhibits. He reached out and picked it up, tossing it up in the air a few times.

"Yes. It was a box in one of the buildings here. Some adolescent humans wielding blue pen lights were watching it." He tilted his head to the side, rolling the round, smooth stone along his fingers. "It was a curious little box. They called it a 'television'. It looked like there were people inside the box, though I find it unlikely—still. The man they were watching on the television wore glasses like these, along with a long, brown coat." N paused. "I actually obtained these glasses from those people. Lending me the glasses was one act of kindness, but . . ." His grin became rueful. "It doesn't excuse them from having pokémon."

"Excuse me, sir?" A man with short black hair and glasses approached N, his skin pale and his smile a bit nervous. The Shadow Triad didn't move, though they were ready to draw knives at any moment. "Sir, we ask that our customers don't touch the exhibits. Something could break, you see, or be damaged. So I'm going to have to ask you to put that back."

N glanced at him, examining him over the top of his glasses as he had to the female Shadow Triad member previously. But though he gave the man a second's worth of examination, he quickly turned away again, tossing the smooth, rounded stone up in the air again.

"Sir?" The man's voice adopted a note of hysteria, but N ignored him, instead catching the stone once more before examining it closely. Then, to the man's horror, N licked it, running his tongue along the smooth surface. "Sir, please! I have to ask that you do not lick the exhibits! My wife will—"

N's laugh—a pleased, exhilarated little laugh—cut the man off, though N still didn't look up from the stone he was now beaming at. "Fan_tas_tic," he said, and he placed a kiss on the stone before he set it back on the exhibit pedestal, and turned back to look at the Shadow Triad. "That's all I needed, really—confirmation. I now know what's here, and that's enough."

"So then, will you be leaving?" asked the Shadow Triad member in the center. N nodded.

"Yes. You can come along or not—I really don't care. I know Ghetsis told you to trail me, but I, as your King, assure you that won't be necessary."

"You may be our King, but when it comes to your safety, Ghetsis' orders override yours, especially as they pertain to us," the female Shadow Triad member said. "We have to do as he commands." N frowned.

"I would have thought being King would have afforded me more power, but it seems I am powerless still . . ." He sighed. "Well, there's no use complaining about it now. The only thing that will help is to gain more power, and fortunately, I know just how to do that . . ." As quick as a flash, a grin was back in place, and N pulled off his glasses to slip them back in his pocket. "I am going to leave, then. You may follow, but keep your distance. Though you're supposed to tail me, you're still human, and that means I still don't like you."

"Yes, Lord N," the Shadow Triad chorused. They watched him leave, his footsteps light and quick as he dodged around the exhibits and between other museum patrons, and when he pushed the door open to exit, they disappeared in a flash of white light.

* * *

If there was one city, just _one city _in all the world that could make Blair Coalsen feel uncomfortable, Nacrene City was it.

Walking along the worn down streets of Nacrene City was, to him, akin to walking under a flood of neon lights, all of which pointed down at him to highlight to the rest of the world how _not cool_ he was. As much as he tried to huddle down in his pullover and not attract attention, he felt as though every fedora-wearing, latte-sipping street musician he passed was staring at him, judging him through their black framed, lens-less glasses and deeming him unworthy of walking their streets. It was ridiculous, he knew; he shouldn't care what they thought, because odds are they weren't _that_ much cooler than he was. But they seemed to _believe _that they were, and no matter what they wore or drank or listened to, the fact that they could be that confident about their self-image was pretty cool as far as he was concerned.

Still, although he was firm in the belief that confidence could make one cool, he couldn't bring himself to muster any of his own. Thus, walking down the streets of Nacrene City was akin to taking the Walk of Shame, and there was a part of Blair—a large part, as forceful as a houndour within striking distance of a raw steak—that wanted to flee the city as fast as he could and never look back.

It was for that reason that he berated himself for even bothering with the Gym—that he was all but forcing himself to walk toward the front door of the museum, head down, dragging his feet along the concrete. Had he been looking up, he might have noticed when the museum doors were thrown open with enough force to almost hit the wall of the museum as they swung back. Had he been looking up, he would have seen N before he bumped into him, and was subsequently sent tumbling back down the museum steps. Fortunately, he'd only made it up a couple steps before he was knocked backwards, but he still ended up in a heap on the ground, his pokéballs bouncing out of his pullover pocket and onto the ground. For a brief moment, Blair didn't even know what happened. It wasn't until he looked up and saw N leaning over him that he put two-and-two together.

"S-Sorry," he blurted, though there was honestly no reason for _him _to be the one apologizing. "I-I just—"

"You dropped your pokéballs," N stated, and he rocked back on the balls of his feet. Blair's eyes widened, and he hastily scrambled to scoop up Saphir and Arion's pokéballs, shoving them back into his pullover pocket as he stood up. His palms were scraped up from the concrete, though he dusted them off on the front of his pullover, trying not to wince. "You're rather careless for a Trainer. I would hope that you would take better care of your pokémon."

"I-I do," Blair said, and while he was never the best at standing up for himself, he couldn't help but feel a little defensive. "I love my pokémon."

"You dropped them rather easily," N pointed out. Blair wanted to point out that they fell out of his pocket, and that they only did so because N all but pushed him back down the stairs, but he couldn't get the words out. N was still bouncing on the balls of his feet, looking Blair up and down, and he spoke before Blair could think up the words to defend himself further. "You were in the plaza back in Accumula Town, weren't you? Oh so long ago. Back when Team Plasma gave their demonstration. I saw you there, in the crowd, with that girl—Lea."

"Y-Yes. I was there." Truth be told, Blair was surprised N remembered him. True, Blair remembered N, but that was because it was rather difficult to forget someone like him. Blair, on the other hand, recognized himself as being easily forgettable. "I, um. Did . . . did you have something to . . ."

"Tell me—what do you think of pokémon?" N skipped down the final steps, though he was looking up at the sky rather than Blair, and Blair was so caught off-guard by the question that he couldn't think of a response. It seemed that N didn't want to give him time to think of one, anyway. "I think they're the most beautiful creatures on this planet. I want to know everything about them—really know. I want to feel what they feel, see what they see. I want to experience their ideals, and a future where they have ascended to the level of perfect beings—a level that humans could never hope to achieve." N turned to face Blair suddenly, and Blair stumbled back a few steps, caught off-guard by the wild look in N's eyes. "What do you think, Blair? Does that future sound desirable to you, too?"

The fact that N remembered his name made the situation somehow worse. In the face of such intensity, Blair's mind felt strangely blank, and his tongue felt numb. It was more difficult to talk than normal. "I . . . I guess?" he tried. N appraised him for a moment, yet then laughed lightly—humorlessly.

"Is that so?" he asked quietly. "I feel as though the only way to test your resolve is through battle, though I would hate to call upon my friends to do that, and besides . . ." He smirked, and Blair decided that he did not like that smirk very much. "It doesn't seem as if you have enough power to realize your ideals even if they are different from mine."

Blair honestly didn't know what to say to that, though he opened his mouth to try and respond anyway. But due to his lack of words, he ended up closing it again as N turned away, looking up at the sky, shifting his weight from foot to foot. "I don't have enough power to recognize my ideals, either," N said after a moment. "There are still too many factors missing for me to create the perfect formula, but . . . I believe I know what I need to do to make it work. To gain the necessary amount of power to make my ideals come to fruition." N looked over his shoulder, and Blair swallowed. "What do you know of Unova's myths?"

"Only what I've heard," Blair said quietly. N smiled.

"Then, do you know of the legendary pokémon, Zekrom? The legendary pokémon that, along with the hero, created the Unova region?" Blair nodded, and N looked up at the sky again. "I'm not sure what role the hero _truly_ played when it came time to create the Unova region, but I do know that where previous heroes may have failed, _I _will succeed. Once I awaken Zekrom . . ." He glanced back to Blair. "Well, you'll see. But for now, I've said enough." For the first time since boarding the proverbial crazy train, Blair agreed with him. "I have places to go, goals to accomplish, strange 'television' boxes to watch . . . and so, as they say, allons-y!" With that, N spun around and started down the street, leaving Blair staring after him.

Truth be told, Blair didn't know what to think, say, or do. Everything that N had said—from the accusation that Blair didn't care about his pokémon to everything he said about ideals and heroes—sounded insane. It sounded like the starting point, the duration and destination of the Crazy Train. But although it sounded insane, it didn't sound _just _insane; Blair felt unsettled, as though there was a truth to N's words that he didn't want to acknowledge, even though he couldn't see what it could possibly be. Of course he knew the legend of Zekrom—and not only Zekrom, but Reshiram as well. It was hard to find a person in Unova who didn't know of those legends, because they were childhood bedtime stories. But that was just it—they were just legends. Stories. There was no way they could be real . . .

. . . was there?

Blair shook his head, and turned to walk back up the museum steps, his hands in his pullover pocket, his pokéballs held tightly in his palms. Nacrene City was certainly one of the worst cities by far, and the moment he won his Gym Badge, he was going to leave—the sooner, the better. With any luck, the Gym battle wouldn't be too terrible; from what he'd heard, the Gym Leader was kind, and if the state of the museum was anything to go by, nothing like the rest of the residents in her city. Though the little episode with N was pretty terrible, by his standards, Blair was at least grateful that none of Nacrene's judgmental citizens had witnessed it, and it was the only thought to comfort him about the experience as he pulled open the door to the museum and stepped inside.

Of course, unbeknownst to him, someone _had _witnessed it. While Nacrene City's residents remained blissfully unaware of the little scene, the Shadow Triad had witnessed everything from the roof of the museum, sitting perched on the very edge. From their position, they could see out over the city; they could see the identical dark grey, metal roofs of the warehouses, the torn up grey streets, and their King walking along them, seemingly without much of a destination in mind. They would follow him, naturally, in due time; with their abilities, following immediately wasn't necessary, so long as they kept him in sight. But for the moment, they simply lingered, mulling over what they had just witnessed and listened to. Since they were alone, it was easier to slip out of their hive mind persona, to let a little bit more of themselves leak through. To be more open, at least with each other, since there was no one else around to bear witness to it.

"I think our boy king has lost his marbles." This came from the mouth of the sole female member of their trio—the middle triplet, Lucy. She sat with her legs dangling over the edge of the museum's roof, watching N progress down the street from under her hood. Beside her, standing rigid on the corner of the building, her elder brother—Altair—shook his head.

"I don't think he has. He's still following the plan."

"He's watching television and borrowing glasses he doesn't need from deadbeat teenagers. That wasn't part of the plan."

"No, but it isn't hurting anything, either."

"It could."

"If it does, we'll interfere. Until then—"

"—we don't have to," Lucy finished, and she sighed. "I know, I know."

"I don't like this," the youngest triplet, Desmond, finally spoke up. His voice was muffled due to the way he hid his mouth with his coat collar, but nonetheless, his siblings could hear him just fine. Both of them looked over to see him huddled up against the roof ledge, his knees to his chest, his mismatched eyes no doubt staring hard at them. "If Ghetsis finds out about what N is doing, he's going to be angry. He'll be furious. I don't like that. I—I don't want to make him angry."

"We're not going to make him angry," Lucy assured him. "Like Altair said, there's no reason to get involved yet."

"If any problems arise, we'll solve them. That's our job," Altair added, as Lucy put a hand on Desmond's shoulder. "That is what Ghetsis ordered us to do. So long as we solve any and all problems before he finds out about them, everything will be all right."

"Y-Yeah. It will be. Yeah. Okay. Yes." Desmond nodded a few times, and beneath her hood, Lucy smiled. "Okay. Yeah. We'll be all right."

"Yes, we will. Now." Lucy swung her legs over so that she could stand up on the ledge, and Desmond got to his feet as well. "Should we follow our boy king?"

Altair nodded. "Yes. Let's."

The three of them disappeared in bursts of white light.

* * *

If there was one place in Nacrene City that was constantly a hotspot for social activity, it was Café Warehouse.

"Ooh! Lea, Lea! Over here!"

So, naturally, that made it a perfect meeting place.

Lea grinned as she saw Bianca bouncing up and down in her seat, waving one hand frantically to try and get her attention. Café Warehouse was located on the edge of Nacrene City, as though it wanted to be fringe not only by its style, but also by its location, and it was built out of a split-level warehouse; there were seats along the upper balcony in addition to the seats outside, and the seats on the lower floor. It was positively crammed with people, to the point where Lea had to elbow her way through the crowd to make it to the small table Cheren and Bianca had secured in the back. It wasn't that Lea terribly minded having to elbow people, of course, what with Lea being Lea and all, but it was still worth noting that she had to do it.

"Ahh, I'm so glad you could make it!" Bianca bounded over and threw her arms around Lea as soon as she was near enough to do so, and Lea hugged her back tightly, lifting her best friend off the floor as she did so, causing Bianca to laugh. "It feels like it's been forever since we've seen each other!"

"Aw, chill out, Bi, it hasn't been that long!" Lea set Bianca down on the floor, and then held her arms open toward Cheren. "C'mon, Cherry-berry, it's your turn! I promise I won't pick you up or anything, either."

"That's a lie and we both know it," Cheren said flatly, but Lea just continued to grin at him, waggling her fingers enticingly. He sighed. "Will you at least make it quick?"

"Will you stop pretending you don't love me even though we all know that you love me to pieces 'cause we're practically fam damily and stuff?"

Cheren rolled his eyes, but the hints of a smile were causing his lips to twitch, and that sealed the deal for Lea. Without waiting for him to get up from his seat and walk over to her, she bounded around the table, grabbed his arm, and yanked him up into a hug so forceful she not only lifted him off the ground, but spun him around to boot.

"Whitlea! Put me down!" he snapped, and Lea—laughing—complied, setting him down on his feet, thereafter giving him another brief, yet tight, hug.

"Fine, fine. But we all know that you really love it, right, Bi?" Bianca was wearing a smile so huge Lea almost thought it would break her face, and she bobbed her head in an enthusiastic nod.

"Yup!"

"Hmph." Cheren smoothed out his shirt and jacket, both which were wrinkled after Lea's energized hugs. "You're both lucky you are who you are. I wouldn't put up with this otherwise."

"Love you too, Cherry-berry," Lea sang, and Bianca hid another fit of giggles behind her fist. Lea glanced at their table, and—upon seeing that there were no cups on it—said, "So, are we gonna get something to drink, or what? 'Cause I'm totally fine with just chillin' out with you guys and doing whatevsies, but if we're in a café, we might as well get something! I'd totally kill for some kind of awesome cinnaminny drink right about now."

"We were waiting for you," Cheren said, and a little bit of a smirk tilted his lips. "If you hadn't been late . . ." Lea waved his complaints.

"Yeah, yeah, whatevs, whatevs. Anyway, let's go get something! Dogmeat!" Lea tossed Dogmeat's pokéball into the air, causing her newly evolved herdier to materialize on the floor. Bianca gasped, and clapped her hands together in front of her chest. "Guard our table, okay?" Dogmeat barked as Bianca stood up.

"Lea, your little one evolved, too? Toto evolved just the other day—I'm so glad to see our pokémon are growing together!" Lea grinned, and as Dogmeat hopped up into her chair, she looped one of her arms through Bianca's, and the other through Cheren's to drag them up to the line in front of the counter.

"Yeppers peppers! Ganon still hasn't, but I bet he'll evolve any day now. Maybe he will when he faces the Gym Leader of this place. Hey, have you guys beaten her yet?"

"Bianca and I both challenged the Gym this morning. We didn't mean to challenge together, but fortunately that didn't seem to be a problem for Lenora. Not that she won, but . . ." Cheren grinned as Lea tried (and failed, due to their linked arms) to toss her hands into the air.

"So, I'm the last one? Not fair! But maybe I'll still manage to beat Blair-bear there, anyway."

"It isn't a race," Cheren pointed out, but Bianca spoke over him, looking to Lea excitedly.

"Oh, have you seen Blair again?"

"Yup. Well, not recently, but we challenged the Striaton Gym together—y'know, had a date and all that. Dude, let me tell you, that guy _sucks _at battling! Seriously, he faced off against the green-haired one—don't remember what his name was—and neither of them could command their pokémon at all. Me and Chili ended up finishing a whole bottle of wine before that battle was through." Cheren frowned as Bianca's eyes widened.

"Lea, you're not of legal drinking age—"

"You two went on a date?" Bianca slipped her arm out of Lea's to grab Lea's hand instead, and swung around to stand in front of her as they moved up in line. "A real date? Oh, I could just wring your neck, Lea! Why didn't you call to tell me? You're supposed to share these kinds of details with us!"

"Bianca, I think it's more important that we note that she was drinking—" Cheren tried, but Bianca waved him off.

"Cheren, how could that one little thing be more important than our Lea getting a boyfriend?" Bianca bounced impatiently on the balls of her feet. "Spill the details, Lea! Tell us all about it!"

Lea stared at Bianca for a minute before she burst out laughing. "Wait. Wait, wait—you think I'm dating Blair-bear? Pfft, get real! I don't even wanna _train _a buneary, much less have one for a boyfriend. Nah, we just went on a date 'cause you know how the Striaton Gym is set up like a restaurant? Well, we challenged it together so we ate dinner together, that's all. But seriously, he's not my boyfriend. We barely even talked through the whole shebang."

"Aww, that's sad. Poor Blair." Bianca looked genuinely sympathetic as they stepped up to the counter, and Cheren pulled his arm free of Lea's. "I think he's cute. He was probably just nervous that he was eating dinner with you—you're a force to be reckoned with even on your calmest days."

"Hell yeah I am," Lea said proudly, and the barista cleared his throat.

"Are you three going to be paying together, or separate?"

"Together," Cheren said, and he pulled his wallet out of his back pocket. Both Lea and Bianca looked over to him.

"Aww, Cheren, you don't have to do that!" Lea said. "Bi and I are Trainers too, you know. We can pay for our own stuff, right, Bi?" Bianca nodded, and Cheren sighed.

"I know you can, but we haven't seen each other in awhile. Let this one be on me, all right? You can pay next time." Lea considered, and then grinned.

"Y'okay, sounds like a deal to me!"

"So, what can we get you?" The barista seemed to be in a bit of a hurry, and Bianca—not wanting to make anyone wait on her, especially since a line was accumulating behind them—put a finger to her chin and looked up at the menu.

"Hmm, let's see . . . how about a medium hazelnut mocha? I think that sounds real nice, don't you?" Her question was directed to Lea and Cheren, but before either of them could respond, the barista sniffed.

"What size did you say? _Grande_, right?"

"Um . . . sure?" Bianca glanced at Lea and Cheren, and asked in an undertone, "Is grande the same thing as medium?"

"Looking at the menu, I would say so, though that's not what the word means," Cheren said, in the same low tone as Bianca. Lea considered the dilemma for a moment before she looked back to the barista, a challenging grin on her face.

"All righty, Joe Mighty, gimme a large pumpkin spice latte with cinnamon, y'okay? And really double it up on the cinnamon, too. I want it to be the most cinaminny pumpkin spice latte you guys can make!" Behind her back, Cheren pointed at her and mouthed the word 'decaf' to the other barista preparing their drinks, and she flashed him a thumbs-up.

"A venti pumpkin spice latte with cinnamon?" The barista manning the register asked, and Lea shook her head.

"Nope. I don't know what that _venti _word means, but I don't want it. Large or bust!"

"Venti is the largest size we have," the barista said, and Lea met his bared teeth with her own bared in a grin.

"Large is large, and that's what I want, got it?"

"Venti is fine," Cheren interrupted, and he pulled Lea back from the counter. She scowled at him, but before she could say anything, he said, "I'll take a grande chai tea latte with soy, thank you."

"All right, that will be 1,310 pokédollars." Cheren pulled a neat stack of bills out of his wallet and passed it across the counter, where the barista manning the register took it with disinterest. As Cheren and Bianca waited for his change to be counted out, Lea wandered down to the opposite end of the counter where the drinks were served up, and plucked a green plastic drink stirrer out of a box full of them so she could chew on it. Naturally, when Cheren and Bianca walked over to join her, it was the first thing Cheren commented on it as he slipped his wallet back into his back pocket.

"You didn't pick that up off the floor, did you?" Lea gave him an indignant look.

"That was _one time_, Cheren. One time! And I was, like, six or something!"

"You were thirteen."

"It was _one time_!" Lea cried, waving her arms to accentuate her point. Her indignant protest caused the green drink stirrer to fall on the floor, and for a moment, the three of them simply stared at it before Cheren looked up at Lea with a severe look.

"Don't."

"I wasn't gonna!" Lea snapped, and Bianca laughed as Lea turned to swipe another green coffee stirrer out of the bin, sticking it in her mouth so she could chew on the end with great prejudice.

"I've missed this," Bianca said, and she reached out to take both Cheren and Lea's hands. "I really have—I've missed being with you guys so much. Don't get me wrong, it's so much fun traveling with Toto, and Wotter, and Munny, but—"

"Munny?" Lea asked, and this time she made sure to hold the other end of her green drink stirrer, so that it didn't join the first one down by her feet. Bianca gave her a quizzical look for a moment before her eyes widened.

"Oh, yeah, I didn't have a chance to say—I caught a munna in the Dreamyard! I named him Munny, and—"

"Grande hazelnut mocha and a venti pumpkin spice latte with cinnamon!" The female barista's voice was loud enough to carry over the entire café, and Bianca jumped a little as Lea turned to swipe both cups off the counter, handing Bianca's over. Forgetting about her story momentarily, Bianca took the hot cup from Lea's hand and sipped at it, a smile breaking out over her face.

"Oh, this is so good! Here, Lea, you have to try it."

"Samesies," Lea said, passing her own drink over to Bianca. Cheren leaned against the counter as the two girls sampled each other's drinks, and after a moment, Lea pulled Bianca's drink away from her lips with wide eyes. "Holy psyduck, that is amazeballs. Maybe I should have gotten that instead." She swapped out her drink with Bianca's, took another swig of her own, and then shook her head. "Nope, nope, never mind, the cinnaminny drink's still got it beat." As she said this, she placed one arm on Cheren's head to use him as an armrest, and he glared at her.

"Whitlea, remove your arm before I remove it for you." Lea grinned, but pulled her arm away as requested, as the barista slid Cheren's drink across the counter to him. By this point, there was a sizeable group crowded around that end of the counter as they waited for their drinks to be prepared, and as such, Lea had to create a path back to their table by pushing her way through the people, Bianca hastily offering apologies as she and Cheren followed in Lea's wake.

"Hey, look! Dogmeat kept our table!" Lea skipped back over to their table as her herdier stood up on her chair, wagging his stubby tail excitedly, his tongue lolling out of his mouth. "Good boy, Dogmeat!" Bianca shook her head as she and Cheren took their seats, and looked to Lea's herdier with a sigh.

"I still wish you had named him something nicer. Couldn't you at least call him Dog?"

"I do, sometimes. Move it, Dogmeat." Lea gently nudged her herdier so that he hopped down from her chair before plopping into it herself. "But sometimes I don't. Anyway, Cheren, did you—"

"Ugh, do you guys _train pokémon_?"

The voice that interrupted Lea was high and reedy, and she twisted in her seat to see that it belonged to a boy sitting at a table just behind them. He had bright red hair that was swept into a style with hair product, glasses with no lenses but thick black rims, and a cigarette held between two fingers. His companions seemed to have similar style; there was a girl with copper colored hair teased with blonde streaks, another girl with short black hair and a nose ring, and two other boys: one with short, purposely messy black hair, as well as a boy with brown. All of them wore the glasses, and most of them were smoking. Lea glanced back at Cheren and Bianca, who shrugged, before she looked back to the teenagers that had interrupted.

"Uh, yeah?"

"Way to follow the current," he said, and he took a sip of his drink as the other people at his table laughed. "Everyone trains pokémon these days. You fit perfectly into conformist culture."

"Conformist . . . what?" Lea once again turned back to Cheren and Bianca, feeling more lost than ever. Once again, Bianca shrugged, though this time it was with a hopeless expression. Cheren's eyes were focused on the group they were speaking to. "What does that—"

"It looks like you train pokémon as well," Cheren said, and he nodded to the boy with red hair, who was twirling his cigarette in hand. The boy blew smoke rings into the air, and gave Cheren an unimpressed look over the rims of his lens-less glasses. "So then, aren't _you _fitting into conformist culture?"

"I train pokémon _ironically_," the boy said, with a tone that suggested Cheren was stupid for even having to ask. If Lea had felt lost before, she felt even more so now. "If I trained them _genuinely_, I would be a conformist."

"Trust a conformist not to know the difference," said the girl with coppery hair. The rest of them snorted and muttered a bit. Lea, feeling fed up, rolled her eyes and smacked her hand on her table.

"Look, you guys can make up words all you want—"

"They're not. That's _your _department," Cheren interrupted.

"—but training pokémon is training pokémon is training pokémon, and if you train pokémon, that means you battle pokémon, too." Lea stood up, and Dogmeat hopped forward, wagging his tail excitedly, his tongue lolling in in a canine grin. "So c'mon, serve 'em up! I'll show you how to be all 'ironically,' or whatever."

"Lea, don't use that word if you don't know what it means," Cheren said, as Bianca cried, "Oh, Lea, do you have to battle now?" and the teenagers at the other table burst into laughter.

"I don't battle," said the red-haired boy. He put his cigarette out using an ash tray on the table before he reached for the pack of cigarettes set next to it. "Especially not with a commonplace, Unovan mutt like that."

"Hey!" Lea was confused and impatient before, but she felt anger spike at the slight against Dogmeat, who made an unhappy noise as he flattened his ears against his head.

"I have a magikarp, a rattata, and a caterpie." The red-haired boy lit up his second cigarette, inhaled deeply, and then exhaled. "I don't battle." Cheren scoffed.

"I wouldn't either, if that was my lineup. Though they should all evolve soon, at the very least."

"Evolve? Ugh, trust a conformist to say that. I don't believe in pokémon evolution." As Lea, Cheren, and Bianca stared at the smoking teen—not knowing quite what to say to that—the girl with coppery hair spoke up.

"Conformists only evolve their pokémon to fit with the mainstream perception that pokémon are only useful if they grow stronger. If we do own pokémon, we don't evolve them, so they don't fit into the labels society insists on putting on them."

"Our pokémon are pokémon, not soup cans," said the girl with the nose ring, sitting on a boy's lap on the other side of their table. The boy whose lap she was sitting on laughed.

"And only pokémon from Kanto are worth bothering with, anyway. No other pokémon count or matter."

Lea was about to demand to know what any of that meant, but as she opened her mouth to retaliate, the sound of chairs skidding on a wooden floor caused her to turn. Both Cheren and Bianca stood up and walked over to flank her, glaring at the table full of fake glasses wearing teenagers.

"That's crossing a line," Cheren said in a low voice. Bianca nodded.

"It is! How can you say other pokémon don't matter, just based on what region they're from? All of my darlings matter, even if they're from Unova! And what's wrong with Unova, anyway? You live here!"

"Ironically," said the brown-haired boy. "Duh." His companions nodded in agreement.

"If I had it my way, there would be no other region besides Kanto," said the girl with coppery hair. She took the remains of the red-haired boy's cigarette and took the last drag before she put it out, sighing with her exhale. "Kanto . . . is perfect."

"Yeah? Well, you're annoying," Lea snapped. As the teenagers at the other table laughed, she raised her voice. "No, seriously, you guys are like soda cans that have been opened and left in the refrigerator for days on end! You guys are like cereal boxes that are missing the prize at the bottom! You're sunburns on the skin of the world! You're paper cuts on the palm of the world's hand, you're mozzarella sticks without any mozzarella—"

"Lea," Cheren said, impatience touching his tone. Lea barreled on.

"You guys are the _worst_, and I don't even care where you got your pokémon from, 'cause I wanna battle you and prove that mine are better!"

"That's not the point, but I agree with my friend," Cheren said, and he pulled a pokéball out of his pocket. "I usually wouldn't waste my time, but I think you guys could stand to learn what pokémon are really about."

"I agree!" Bianca chimed in, and she fished a pokéball out of her purse. "So battle us . . . unless you're too scared to."

The teenagers at the table exchanged glances, all traces of smiles wiped from their faces. Perhaps it was because challenges weren't mainstream, or because torchic were, but whatever the case, the red-haired boy, the coppery-haired girl, and the girl with the nose ring all stood up.

"Fine. We'll battle you," the red-haired boy said, and he pushed his glasses further up his nose. "Even though this battle won't count since you aren't using decent, Kanto-borne pokémon."

"We're about to skip the pokémon and go straight into my Unova-borne fist right in your stupid face, and see if that counts," Lea growled, but Cheren put a hand on her arm as he called his purrloin to the field.

"Calm yourself, Lea. We'll show them how worthy our pokémon are through battle."

"Yeah," Bianca agreed, her munna floating in front of her. "We'll teach them what's what!"

Lea couldn't disagree with them, but all the same, she couldn't quite quell the temptation to cross the floor and start swinging fists.

* * *

"Here."

Blair looked up, and took the small cup of coffee Lenora offered him as she passed it over. They were in her office, their battle having been concluded, and though he'd won (though barely), Lenora had noticed that he still seemed shaken. After healing his pokémon she'd taken him back into her office for coffee, and while ordinarily such an offer would have just made him feel uncomfortable, somehow Lenora's presence was calming.

"Th-Thank you," he said quietly, sipping at the drink. Lenora sipped at her own cup before she smiled warmly at him.

"You're quite welcome. You looked more shaken than a baby buneary facing a pack of mightyena. I really hope I'm not that scary." Blair's cheeks flushed.

"N-No! You're not scary at all. I just . . ." He sighed. "I'm just . . . not very good at battling. That's all."

"Well, that's an insult if I ever heard one." Blair looked up, confused, to find Lenora smirking wryly at him. "If you're not good at battling, and you beat me, what does that say about me, hm?" Blair's eyes widened in alarm.

"N-No! I—I'm sorry, I didn't mean—" Lenora chuckled, and he fell silent.

"It's all right, I'm only teasing. But do you want to know what your problem is, Blair?" His silence seemed to be enough affirmation for her, so she continued. "Your problem is that you lack _confidence_. You have to have confidence so that both your pokémon and your opponents can have confidence in you, too. Confidence and self-respect, because let me tell you something: no one is going to respect you if you don't respect yourself, first."

Blair stared at his coffee cup, spinning it gently on its saucer. "That's . . . easier said than done," he mumbled. He didn't know why he was telling her that—surely she didn't want to know of his problems—but she seemed to take it in stride regardless.

"I know. Trust me, I didn't get to where I am today without having to claw for every inch of self-respect I have. But I do respect myself, and I love myself, and look at where I am. Go on, lift up your head—look!" Blair looked around her office as requested, and then looked back at her to see that she was smiling. "See? Looking people in the eyes when you talk to them is a good first step. You never look more like a kicked lillipup than when you spend all your time staring at the ground."

"But it's easier to look at the ground than at people. If I look at people, they stare at me . . . and judge me . . ."

"Honey, living in this town introduces me to nothing more than people who judge you on everything from your shoes to the music you listen to," Lenora groused. "But that's a fact of life. You've just gotta pick your head up and move on. If you don't, you're never going to get anywhere."

Blair knew that she was right. He had a definite lack of an ability to stand up for himself, and it showed in the way everyone and their seventy-year-old grandmother was able to walk all over him. Even so, he still wasn't sure if he could even with everything Lenora was saying, but when he opened his mouth to ask her for more advice, a loud, shrill alarm cut him off, causing him to jump just enough to splash coffee onto his pants.

"What the—wait here." Lenora set her coffee cup down on her desk and all but ran out of the office, back toward the Gym arena and the stairs. Blair hesitated, unsure whether or not he should follow, for after all, she _had _told him to wait. But the alarm was screeching in his ears, and if nothing else, he wanted a chance to slip out of the Gym and away from it. Setting his coffee on her desk as well, Blair mopped at the wet spot on his pants with his pullover, and thereafter got up to head toward the stairs.

Of course, the alarm was even more blaring on the upper level, and Blair tried futilely to tug his baseball cap down over his ears, to try and block out the noise. It was no use, of course, and when he saw who was likely the cause of all of the racket, he thought it might be better if he had all of his senses on alert, anyway.

It was Team Plasma.

"Are you sure this is it?!" a female knight screamed. She was standing on top of a tropius' head, her hands grasping the skull of the large dragon fossil in the center of the museum. Her voice was nearly as shrill as the alarms, and the male grunt that answered her had a voice that was no more gentle.

"YES! Just grab the blessed fossil and let's _go_!"

"I don't think so!" Lenora's booming voice cut easily across the alarm, and Blair jumped again, watching as she made her way over to the Plasma knights, looking almost terrifying in her fury. "That fossil is a priceless artifact, and there is no way you cretins are removing it from _my _museum!"

"This fossil is the remains of the legendary pokémon, Zekrom, and we claim it in the name of Team Plasma!" the male knight shouted back at her, as the female knight slid down her tropius' neck, fossil in hand. "It's for pokémon liberation!"

"Pokémon liberation?! It's a fossil! There's nothing to liberate!" Lenora shouted. The male grunt started laughing, loud enough for Blair to hear over the alarms, and directly in Lenora's face.

"That's what you think, you stupid woman! Now, we're going to—"

He didn't have a chance to finish his sentence. The second the words "stupid woman" left his mouth, Lenora smacked him, the flat of her hand cracking against the side of his head and sending him toppling to the ground. Everyone in the room stared, save Lenora's husband, who rushed up to his wife.

"The police are on their way!" he told her, wiping the sweat off his brow with a handkerchief. "They should be here soon—"

"We don't need police! I can handle these lowlifes myself!" As she spoke, Lenora reached for one of the pokéballs in her apron, and the Plasma knights hastily stumbled away from her.

"Hey!" the female knight shouted. She was standing nearer the door, now, the dragon skull held in her hands, looking wild and panicked. "I've got the skull! Let's go!" With that, she turned and bolted through the doors, the rest of her teammates hurriedly following after. Lenora's eyes widened, but a second later, she was hastening after them herself.

"Stop them! What are you all just standing around for?! Don't let them get away!"

As Lenora sprinted for the museum doors and tossed them open, her husband took a few faltering steps after her, raising one hand as if to call her back, or stop her. Unfortunately, he didn't make it more than those few steps before he passed out, crumpling to the floor moments before museum staff rushed to help him. Blair hesitated, wondering if he should go check on Lenora's husband, or go after Lenora herself; by this point, though, the alarm system was starting to give him a headache, so though he felt for the unconscious man, he headed toward the front doors.

* * *

"No, but seriously, since my li'l fire piggy evolved into a bropig back there, I'm pretty sure I've got this Basic Badge in the bag, man."

All things considered, Lea was feeling pretty pleased with herself. Café Warehouse was in shambles due to their battle, and she was going to have to send payments to pay for the damages back to the café about every other week (with Cheren, Bianca, and the cigarette smoking teenagers helping out as well), but she'd won the battle, Ganon evolved, and she, Cheren, and Bianca were on their way to earn her a Basic Badge. All things considered, her mood couldn't be better.

"I wouldn't be so confident," Cheren said, his hands in his pockets. Lea scoffed as Bianca swung her arms back and forth as they walked. "Lenora is tough. Even after battling Bianca, she _still _gave me a difficult time. You're going to be facing her when she's at her best, so I hope you have a strategy handy."

"'Course I do," Lea said, and she added a bit of offense to her voice. Glancing over, she saw that Cheren had raised his eyebrows in question. "I'm gonna send bropig out to battle, and light her pokémon on fire using his Flame Charge attack. See? Strategy." Cheren rolled his eyes, and Bianca laughed.

"Well," she said, "I hope that strategy works out for you, Lea—aack!"

Lea yanked Bianca out of the way as a woman clad in light blue sprinted by, holding what looked to be a sort of skull in her arms. She was quickly followed by a few more people wearing blue, who—to Lea, anyway—looked similar to the pokémon protesters in Accumula Town. Team Plastic, or whatever they were called. For a few seconds, she simply watched them run, her hands still clutching Bianca's shoulders. After those seconds passed, however, she released Bianca to sprint after them, and was only stopped by both Cheren and Bianca grabbing her arms.

"What? What?" she demanded, twisting free to look back at them. Cheren adjusted his glasses (Lea's twisting had knocked them askew) and gave her an exasperated look.

"Do you even know why you're running after them?"

"'Cause they look like they're trouble," Lea answered promptly. "And trouble's fun so long as I'm not the one being punished for it." Bianca frowned and twisted her bag strap, looking past Lea to look after the fleeing knights.

"They looked like they were in Team Plasma," she said quietly, and Lea felt recognition hit her. She knew 'Team Plastic' hadn't sounded exactly right. "Team Plasma's pretty dangerous, Lea. I don't think you should chase them without good reason."

"I _do _have good reason," Lea said, her tone loud and exasperated. "They looked like trouble. Didn't they? Didn't they look like trouble? And wherever trouble is, I'm sure to follow, right?"

"Unfortunately, yes," Cheren agreed, and Lea grinned, feeling victorious. "But I think that you should get a bit more information before rushing off after trouble. It looked like that girl was holding something big—something like a fossil, I'd guess, since they came from the direction of the museum. We should go investigate that, first."

"Hmm . . . well, Zubatman _is _the World's Greatest Detective . . ." Lea mused, and then punched one fist into the opposite palm. "All right! We're headed to the museum! It works, since we were headed there anyway so I could pick up my Basic Badge."

"'Pick up my Basic Badge,' she says," Cheren muttered beneath his breath. Unfortunately for him, he didn't have a chance to say much more. Once Lea's mind was made up, it was easier to stop a bullet train with bare hands, and as such she grabbed him by the collar of his jacket, secured Bianca's hand in her own, and started sprinting in the direction of the museum. "Guh—Lea! Damn it, Lea, let go—"

"No time to waste! If ya don't wanna trip, pick up your feet and move!" Lea shouted. Despite her words, however, it was hard to run if she was dragging both of them, and so she released them without warning. Cheren tripped and nearly flat on his face, but Bianca was able to keep running, though Lea far outclassed her as far as speed went, and she hastened to lift her skirt so that she could run more easily, and catch up.

Still, it wasn't as if they were very far away from the museum in the first place. Before Lea could even begin to catch her runner's high she was having to slow down to avoid barreling into the small group of people gathered in front of the museum steps. But while she slowed down, and while Cheren did as well (even if only so he could deliver a solid punch to her side for nearly throwing him to the concrete), Bianca sped up, waving excitedly as she neared.

"Blair! Blair! Oh, it's so good to see you again!"

"Aww, man!" Lea exclaimed, watching as Blair turned shocked eyes on Bianca, who quickly pulled him into a hug. "Blair-bear, did you seriously already get your Basic Badge? Seriously? Am I seriously the only one left? _Seriously_?"

"Stop saying 'seriously,'" Cheren said, tone annoyed, but also a bit breathless from running. Lea wanted to 'tsk' at him for his lack of stamina, though she refrained if only because she knew he was a bit sensitive about his health issues. Instead, she looked over to Blair, whose cheeks were as red as a charmeleon's skin as Bianca pulled away. "Well?"

"I—um, well, I—I did . . ." His reply was so quiet that Lea almost missed it, and she tossed her hands into the air.

"Well, that's awesomesauce. I love being the last one. Ugh, I'm gonna have to go the Gym straight off next time, so that I'm not—"

"Excuse me." Cheren cut across her, not only speaking over her, but pushing her slightly to the side so that he could approach a larger, dark-skinned woman talking to a skinny man with a ridiculous hair style and scarf. Both the woman and the man turned to look at him, and while the man appeared to be slightly spaced out, the woman looked upset. "Lenora, sorry to bother you, but we were hoping to get some information about what happened here. Was the museum robbed?"

"Did you see the thieves?" Lenora turned fully to face him, though her gaze shifted quickly from Cheren, to Lea, and back again. "Do you know where they went?"

"Yeah, probably," Lea said, and though she still wanted to challenge Lenora to a battle for her badge right then and there, a little voice of common sense that she usually ignored told her that the present time was not the correct one. "Team Plastic, right?"

"Plasma," Bianca corrected quietly. Lea nodded, and jerked a thumb over her shoulder.

"Yeah. Those dorks. They ran that-a-way, like, way past that-a-way, like, past the café, even—"

"It looked like they were headed in the direction of Pinwheel Forest," Cheren said, and he shot Lea a _look _that made her roll her eyes in turn.

"Pinwheel Forest. Got it. Thank you." Lenora closed her eyes briefly, took a deep breath, and then reopened her eyes to focus on them all in turn. "All right, here's what we're going to do. Burgh, you and I are going to Pinwheel Forest to track down those Team Plasma thugs and show them why Nacrene City Museum is the _last _place they want to rob. Blair, honey," Blair straightened as she addressed him, and due to a hesitation on her part, he looked up to meet her eyes, "I want you to stay here and wait and see if the police ever show up. I'm guessing that husband of mine passed out, too, though the museum staff should be taking care of him. Ask them to put some smelling salts under his nose or something if he doesn't come to soon enough."

"I can stay here with Blair," Bianca volunteered, and as Blair looked over at her in surprise, she gave him a smile. "Waiting's always better with two, isn't it?"

"Uh . . . um . . . s-sure?" Blair tried. Bianca smiled even more brightly, and took his hand, swinging their arms back and forth. Lea glanced over to see that Cheren was staring hard at Blair again, though Blair seemed to be too busy blushing at the ground to notice. Lenora grinned.

"That sounds fine with me. Right, then. We should be off. Can't let them get too far ahead, or we'll never catch them."

"So, wait," Lea asked, and all eyes turned on her. Naturally, as per usual, this didn't faze her in the slightest. "Does that mean I should wait here for my Gym battle, or should I just battle you in the forest after you're done getting your fossil thingie back?"

Lenora fixed her gaze on Lea, as Cheren put his face in his hands and Bianca and Blair looked away. Lea stared right back at Lenora, and as far as she was concerned, she was waiting pretty patiently for the answer to her question, even though Lenora's piercing look went on longer than she would have liked. Finally, Lenora spoke, and when she did, a wry sort of smirk curled around her words.

"Tell you what," she said slowly. "You come with me and help retrieve my dragon skull, and I'll decide then if you're worthy of a Gym battle or not." Lea's eyebrows rose to meet her bangs as her mouth opened a little in slight indignation.

"What? I have to _earn_ a Gym battle? What is that even supposed to _mean_, proving I'm worthy? Dude, no one said stopping those Plasma dorks had anything to do with the badge battle!"

"Well, if you don't think you _are_ worthy, or if you're too _afraid_. . ." It was a taunt as plain as day, and while some part of Lea recognized that, the affront to her pride ruffled her feathers too badly for her to care. Her eyes narrowed, and she puffed out her cheeks.

"_Afraid_? Yeah, okay, right. I'll show you who's afraid. I'll go get that fossil back my own self." She adjusted her vest on her shoulders before she turned around, and grabbed Cheren's wrist as she started down the street. "C'mon, loser, we're going fossil hunting."

"First off, if anyone is a loser, it's you. Second off, let _go _of me." Cheren yanked his wrist free from Lea's grip, digging his heels against the concrete to give him enough force to do so. Lea looked back at Cheren, frowning a little—not because of what he said, but because of his reluctance—but before she could ask him what his deal was, he said, "I think I should stay here with Bianca and Blair."

"What? Why?" Lea looked over at the other two, who appeared just as confused as she felt. "Dude, I think they can handle babysitting a museum. Uh, not that you babysit a museum, really, 'cause it's not a baby, so, museumsitting? Yeah, I think they can museumsit. That's a thing, and a thing they can do, at that."

"Yeah, there's no need to worry! We have it all under control here," Bianca said cheerfully, and Blair nodded mutely, though he was still staring at the ground, his cheeks tinted pink. Cheren glanced over with a frown before he looked back to Lea.

"That's not what I'm—"

"For someone who was so determined to earn a Gym battle, you're doing a good job of just standing around here doing nothing," Lenora said, as she passed the pair of them and started down the street. Burgh smiled at both of them as he passed, skipping ahead so that he could keep pace with Lenora. Lea glared at their backs, and then turned that glare on Cheren.

"Cherry-berry, we're wasting time and space and stuff. Let's go!" She grabbed his wrist to drag him off again, and though he pulled his wrist free of her grip once more, he still kept pace with her, only looking back once to see Bianca and Blair enter the museum together.

For a little bit, Lea walked in silence, keeping just behind Lenora and Burgh, but also keeping her pace slow enough so that Cheren could easily keep up. But one thing to be known about Lea was that she wasn't good with silences; she was a loud person by nature, and if she was going to be spending time with someone, she typically wanted that time to be filled with chatter and conversation. With Cheren staring moodily at the ground, and Lenora and Burgh up ahead, conversation seemed to be at a roadblock. As far as Lea was concerned, things couldn't stay that way, so naturally, she veered a bit to the right to nudge Cheren in the shoulder.

"Hey, Broodypants McGee. What's your deal?"

"I don't have a deal," Cheren muttered, and Lea rolled her eyes.

"Dude, you have such a huge deal going on that you could put any store in the general vicinity out of business."

"Lea, even for you, that's a ridiculously bad . . . I don't even know what to call it, it was that terrible."

"Whatevs. Just spill whatever your deal is, already. We're not gonna find the fossil if you're brooding up the forest."

Cheren sighed, and Lea almost thought he was going to return to silently brooding and ignoring her, but after a moment he said quietly, "I think that Blair could be interested in Bianca."

"What? _Blair-bear_?" Lea asked incredulously, and she burst out laughing. Cheren gave her a _look_. "Dude, seriously? Pfft, he's so timid a newborn minccino could scare him. There's no way he could ever ask her out or anything."

"It doesn't mean he isn't interested, and I wouldn't be so sure. The timid act could be just that—an act. He _does _have two badges," Cheren said, and Lea rolled her eyes.

"Okay, I don't know how he got the second badge, but I saw his first battle. It was a mess. Like, that Cress dude? He had to stop the match and give instruction, that's how bad it was. Trust me, Blair-bear doesn't have a chance in Midgard."

"Bianca seems like she could be interested in him, too."

"So?"

"So, what if she is?" Lea looked over to see that Cheren was scowling at the ground, his fists clenched. "He could hurt her."

"Dude, like I said, this is _Blair-bear _we're talking about—"

"We don't know anything about him," Cheren interrupted, and his voice was almost a snap. "We only just met him. He seems nice enough, I will give him that, but he also comes from a much larger city than Nuvema Town. We know each other—who knows what other girls he's dated, or what else he's done." Cheren shoved his hands in his jacket pockets. "I don't want to let him get too close to her before I make sure he's all right."

"Cheren, seriously, Bi can take care of herself—"

"I just want to make sure she's safe," Cheren said, and Lea huffed a sigh, a bit irritated that she wasn't getting to finish her sentences. "And you, too. You're too trusting, Lea."

"It's better to be deceived than to deceive," Lea said, and when she saw Cheren was giving her a flat look, added, "I got that from a game. You know, Tales of Sym—"

"Yes, I know," he said, with a sigh of his own. Lea stuck her hands in her pockets as they fell into silence again, crossing the border of Nacrene City as they headed to the dirt path that would take them to Pinwheel Forest. Their silence allowed her to catch snippets of the conversation Lenora and Burgh were having, and while Lea wouldn't have cared normally, her eyebrows rose as she caught the most interesting part.

"It's just a shame your husband couldn't come find the fossil with us," Burgh was saying, his tone lofty. He was toying with the end of his scarf as he spoke. "It must be hard, not being able to depend on him."

"I can depend on him well enough," Lenora said, her voice flat. Burgh continued to toy with his scarf.

"All the same, you know that whenever you need me, Lenora, no matter the time or the cause . . ."

"Dude, I think Burgh's a homewrecker," Lea said in an undertone to Cheren, cupping her hand around her mouth in hopes the two Gym Leaders ahead wouldn't be able to hear. Cheren huffed.

"I don't think now is the time to discuss that, Lea," he said, but before disappointment could hit Lea too hard, he added in a similar undertone, "But yes." Lea grinned, and held out her hand for a low five. Cheren tapped his palm against hers.

The dirt path leading out of Nacrene City was short, and it was because of this that Pinwheel Forest loomed around them before Lea even had a chance to notice it. She bounced from foot to foot as the shade of the trees stretched over them, but before she could say anything, Lenora and Burgh turned back to face her and Cheren.

"All right, we need to split up," Lenora said, and she jerked a thumb over her shoulder at the concrete path that led alongside the trees. "Burgh and I will take this road, since it's a straight shot to the exit on the other side. We can head Plasma off if they've already reached the end, that way. You two, take the forest path. There are some wild pokémon and some Trainers, but you should by and large be fine."

"I don't recall being told this expedition would make me tromp through a forest," Cheren muttered, and Burgh raised his eyebrows, a little smile playing at his lips.

"Well, I can't do it. These are three hundred pokédollar Fiorrian leather loafers." All eyes fell to his shoes, and Burgh eyed them appreciatively. "The forest floor would ruin them."

"No offense to you kidlets," Lenora said, rolling her eyes at Burgh's display, "but as Gym Leaders, we pack more power than you do. If Plasma's already ready to escape, we need to be there to stop them."

"The only offense I take is at being called a kidlet," Lea said, but she went ignored as Lenora turned away, heading down the path with long, strong sides.

"See you at the end. Be careful!"

"Pft, whatevs. Okay, so, ready to head into the forest?" Lea looked over at Cheren, who was giving her a flat, completely unimpressed look. She rolled her eyes, and started toward the tall grass and trees. "Oh, c'mon, Cherry-berry, don't be such a Grumpy Gus. What's so bad about one little forest?"

"Plenty, Whitlea," Cheren said, but Lea waved his concerns off.

"Nah, come off it, you're just being a Donnie Downer. Forests are cool."

* * *

"I lied. Forests suck."

Twenty minutes later, Lea was stomping toward a log which was braced against a cliff-face, hollowed out so that people and pokémon could crawl through it. It wasn't the tall grass that bothered her, or the wild pokémon encounters, or even the leaves that kept getting stuck in her wild tangles of hair. No, what bothered her was that every time she took three steps, a red clad "ranger" popped out of the ground to challenge her to a battle.

"I mean, dude, I like battling, but seriously! Who hides in a grass mound? We have things to do, and battling grass mounds isn't one of them!"

"They aren't even really rangers," Cheren grumbled. He was having a worse time traipsing through the forest than she was, and his clothes—which were once neat and clean—were now marred with dirt and broken twigs. "Rangers don't keep pokémon in pokéballs and they don't battle in the traditional way. If the Ranger Union knew these people were impersonating them—"

"I don't even care about that nonsense, man, I just want them to stop attacking me with freaking monkeys," Lea said, as she started to crawl up the hollowed out log. Cheren followed behind her, though she heard him muttering about splinters as he did so, and when she reached the top, she turned around to take his hand and pull him up after her. The small plateau they reached allowed them to see over the tree tops, and while Lea appreciated the view for all of point-five seconds, something else on the other side of the plateau quickly caught her eye. "Dude! Cheren! Plasma dorks, six o' clock!"

"That's three o' clock," he said, tone unimpressed, but Lea couldn't even hear him. She'd already started toward the log that headed down from the opposite side of the plateau, but rather than going down from the inside as she was supposed to (for safety reasons), she hopped on top and started running down it. "Whitlea!"

"Heyo!" Lea leaped off the log as she neared the bottom, and landed in a crouch as she hit the grass. The Plasma knights started a bit at her abrupt landing, but the old man dressed in brown robes who was holding the dragon skull simply stared at her impassively. As Cheren finished crawling down the log himself (taking the safe, inside route), Lenora and Burgh walked up from the right to join them. "How goes it?"

"It goes well, thank you," the old man in robes said, inclining his head to her. The Plasma knights were backing away from Lenora and Burgh, the former of which was staring at them with a glare fierce enough to rival an angered persian.

"I really hope you don't think you're going to get to keep that," she said, her eyes fixated on the old man holding the skull. He raised his grey eyebrows.

"Oh, but we must. You see, this skull is instrumental to reviving the legendary dragon pokémon, Zekrom! As such—"

"_That's _instrumental to reviving Zekrom? Let me see it, Gorm."

The voice came from the trees, and Lea looked up to see a tall, green-haired boy—the boy from the plaza in Accumula Town, if she remembered rightly—standing on a tree branch. With little effort, he jumped down, landing in a crouch as she had, and instantly sprang up to move lightly over to Gorm. Gorm obediently held the dragon skull out, and the boy pulled a pair of plastic, black framed glasses from his pants pocket, snapping them onto his face before peering at the skull, moving this way and that to examine it from every angle.

"Hm. This is the dragon skull that was on display in the Nacrene City Museum. It resembles that of either an aerodactyl or a dragonite, though it's aged too much to tell. Either way, it isn't any closer to Zekrom than you are." He pulled back and smiled thinly, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. "You stole that for no reason."

"I—I—we—" Gorm seemed flustered, and the Plasma knights backed even farther away, their skin paling. "We thought—oh, we're so sorry—"

"Sorry is a meaningless word. It doesn't fix mistakes. The only thing that erases a mistake is not making it in the first place." The boy continued shift his wait from foot to foot, tapping his fingers against his legs, and after a moment, he pulled his glasses off and put them back in his pocket. "Though, you don't need that anymore, do you? So you might as well give it back."

"Yes, of course." Gorm held the dragon skull out to Lenora, who took it carefully. There was no doubt from her expression that she still had half a mind to lay into the Team Plasma members present, but her concern for the fossil seemed to outweigh any desire she had to battle at the moment. "We're terribly sorry. We'll be sure to do our research in advance from now on."

"Come near my museum again, research or not, and the only way you'll be leaving is on an ambulance stretcher," Lenora snapped. The apologetic look melted off Gorm's face, replaced once more by a stony expression.

"Team Plasma does not take kindly to threats." Lenora met his hard look with one of her own.

"Then Team Plasma would do well to not make me have to follow through."

For a moment, the two merely continued to have a stare down, and Lea shoved her hands into her pockets, feeling bored at the silence stretching between them. Finally, Gorm closed his eyes and chuckled, before he looked upon Lenora with an aged smile.

"I would expect no less than true obstinacy from a Gym Leader," he said, and Lenora's gaze sharpened. "Your boldness is admirable, I will say that. However, we at Team Plasma will stop at nothing to achieve our goals, and opposition from the eight Gym Leaders is nothing more than we've trained for." He raised one withered hand in a wave. "Until we meet again." With that, Gorm turned and started walking calmly past Lenora and Burgh, the two Team Plasma knights scampering after. Lenora watched them leave, but as they turned out of sight, she sighed and looked back to the dragon skull in her hands, examining it.

"I'll have to give it a better examination back at the museum, but it seems to be all right," she said quietly, and then looked over at Lea and Cheren. "Thank you for your assistance. You didn't do much, but the fact that you tried says enough to me. You there, ah—"

"Lea," Lea said helpfully, grinning. Lenora nodded, returning Lea's grin with a smile.

"You've earned yourself a Gym battle. Come by in a couple hours and I'll take you on."

"Suh-weet! I'll be by to pick up my Basic Badge then," Lea said, and though Cheren pinched the bridge of his nose, as he felt a headache coming on at her audacity, Lenora's smile turned into a laugh.

"Pick up your badge, huh? We'll see about that." Lenora looked over at Burgh, who was toying with the end of his scarf again. "What are you going to do, Burgh?"

"Well," he said, and heaved a long, suffering sigh, "it seemed as if those Plasma goons were headed toward Castelia. I'd probably better get back to head them off, though I didn't get to spend as much time in Nacrene as I'd like . . ." he trailed off, and after seeing that Lenora had nothing to say to that, added, "Although, if you thought you needed a couple extra hands around here, I could—"

"Thank you, but we've got it under control," Lenora said briskly, and Burgh's shoulders slumped. She looked back at Lea and Cheren. "Once again, thank you, both of you. Cheren, I know I already promised Lea a Gym battle, but you should come by later, too. I'll see if I have something for you."

"Thank you. I appreciate it," Cheren said, though he wasn't looking directly at her as he said it. Instead, his eyes were focused on the green-haired boy, who was still rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet as he watched them, his thumbs through his belt loops. Lenora gave Cheren a bemused look, yet then turned back to the road.

"Well, I'm heading back. I'll see you all later." With that, she moved past Burgh, who opened his mouth to say something to her before he thought better of it and closed it again. Looking back at Lea and Cheren, he smiled softly and raised his hand in a wave, before he turned and headed off himself.

It was only then that Lea herself looked properly back at the green-haired boy, who was now staring at her, his eyes flickering down to her chest every so often. She raised her hand to wave to him, but he just tilted his head to the side, still studying her more intently than she was used to.

"Heyo. You're . . . M, right?"

"N," he said, the answer rolling off his tongue instantly. Lea felt Cheren stiffen beside her, but she ignored him, grinning instead.

"N, right, right. Y'know, I think you should have called yourself L, instead. That would've been way cooler."

"L?" N tilted his head to the other side, and Lea nodded.

"Yep. Then you could've been the world's most famous detective, y'know? Being N and all, it's like you're just runner-up, which I mean, Near was pretty cool, too, but not as cool as L, even though he eventually became L. So maybe you could change your name." She grinned, and mimicked his action of bouncing on the balls of her feet. "Though I swear I don't have any death notes, y'okay? No mass murdering over here."

"Death notes?" A bemused smile played at N's lips. "I don't understand what you're saying."

"You never read that comic? Huh. Sad." N continued to stare at her in abject confusion, tilting his head in the other direction again as the word 'comic' left her mouth. Lea wasn't an observant person, really, but even she could notice that he was becoming more confused by the second, and she opened her mouth to ask about it when Cheren cut across her.

"How did you know that Plasma man's name?" Cheren's tone was sharp, almost a growl, and his eyes were fixated on N. Lea frowned, and looked over at Cheren.

"What makes you think he knew that old dude's name?" Cheren spared her a look for only half a second before he looked back at N.

"He called him by name."

"When?"

"When he first revealed himself. He called that man 'Gorm.'"

"_Gorm_?" Lea snorted. "Dude, 'Gorm' isn't a name. It's, like, a sound. A weird sort of gurguly sound. That's not a name."

"It seemed to be. Well?" Cheren took a step forward, as if to put himself between Lea and N, and Lea rolled her eyes. N shrugged.

"I don't see why that matters. You were here to get the fossil back, and you got it back. That's all that matters."

"I don't think it is. If you know Team Plasma—"

"Who and what I know is my business—not yours," N interrupted, and Lea saw Cheren's hands curl into fists. "I don't want to talk to you anymore. You're too much like the rest of them."

"The rest of them?" Cheren questioned. N smiled, though it wasn't a happy smile at all.

"Humans," he answered. His green eyes swiveled to Lea. "Lea?"

"What's up?" she asked, and though Cheren shot her a _look _for answering, she ignored him, her eyes instead trained on N. He pulled his glasses off, and slipped them back into his pocket.

"Have your friends out next time." He nodded to her chest, where her pokéballs were kept. "I'd like to talk to them again." He turned away as Cheren took another step forward, opening his mouth to say something about N's comment, no doubt. "For now, allons-y!" N bolted toward the street, not giving Cheren a chance to retaliate, and Lea watched him go, a bemused look on her face.

"Man, what a weirdo. He's even more of a weirdo than Blair-bear, and that's saying something. I kind of liked that word he used, though. Allons-y. It's fun to say, don'tcha think? Allons-y, allons-y . . ."

"It's French," Cheren snapped shortly. "And he is up to something. I should follow him to see what that is."

"Nope. I have to go pick up my Basic Badge, and Lenora said she had something for you, too," Lea said. Cheren turned to protest, but before he could, she bent down and wrapped her arm around his thighs, lifting him up (with a bit of effort) to toss him over her shoulder, holding him in a firemen carry. "So, it's back to Nacrene City. Like N said, allons-y!"


	5. Chapter Five

_"All cities are mad: but the madness is gallant."_ —Christopher Morley, _Where the Blue Begins_

**Chapter Five: Corrupt Corporate Deals and City Shenanigans in the Sunshine**

* * *

Castelia City was a city of steel.

The first thing anyone new to the city noticed about it was the sheer size and scope of it. Skyscrapers towered over everything, but especially the people, many of whom traveled on foot even though there were plenty of streets that allowed for traffic. The tallest skyscraper of them all, the Wellington Industries building, seemed to lord over the rest, but even the illustrious corporate logo competed with the likes of billboards and bloated rival company insignia. Every building, from the Wellington Industries tower to the Pokémon Center, was grandiose and composed of steel, reflecting cheekily in the sunlight during the day and shining coyly due to neon reflections at night.

The moment Lea, Blair, Cheren, and Bianca reached Castelia City, each one felt pulled in another direction. The skyscrapers, tall enough so that even Lea had to crane her head back to try and see to the tops of them, seemed less imposing and threatening with the sun gleaming off the metallic surfaces, and more inviting, screaming of things to do and people to see. It was as such that even though the city was filled with exhaust fumes that were a bit much on the lungs of the small town teens, and even though the city was loud and jarring with the sounds of honking horns, loud voices, slamming doors and footsteps, there wasn't a single person in their small group that didn't feel the compulsion to run off, see everything, and meet everyone there was to meet.

At the very least, Cheren could take comfort in the fact that he had a purpose.

He'd had a purpose in mind ever since he'd spoken with Ms. Engreen in Striaton City. While she was unable to give him the name of his biological father due to not having it on record, she was able to tell him that his father had been a Champion of the Unovan Pokémon League—most likely, anyway. The information had been given to the orphanage by Cheren's biological mother, and while she could have been lying in order to make herself feel better about the pregnancy she clearly hadn't wanted, Cheren was banking on the fact that she wasn't. If a lie like that wasn't enough to make her keep her child, why bother telling it? It didn't make sense—not to him, anyway—but there was only one way to find out for sure whether she was telling the truth or not, and that was to track his father down. And when it came to tracking someone down, even if you didn't know their name, there was only one company in all of Unova that could do it.

The Game Freak Company.

Not many people knew about the Game Freak Company—and indeed, Cheren supposed that not many people were _supposed_ to know about them, him included. There was hardly any information at all about them online; most websites only hosted conspiracy theories about them, while other domain names owned by the company led to unassuming pages about construction companies and staffing agencies. In other words, you could find plenty of speculation and even more lies, but none of that would tell you what the Game Freak Company actually _did_. As it stood, the only reason Cheren knew anything about them at all was because his adopted father worked for them as a freelance agent from time to time.

Game Freak, under the guise of being a "production" company (without ever specifying what it was that they were producing), operated mostly in the risky business of gathering and manipulating information—and not just any information, either. Game Freak gathered information about the people in Unova, from the youngest children to the highest ranking Elite Four, as well as information on every single corporate entity in the region. They had information on the legitimate businesses as well as the organized crime rings. There was nothing in Unova that Game Freak didn't know about, and Cheren's adopted father had once told him that he speculated there was nothing in the _world _that Game Freak didn't know about, considering they had branches in other regions. The other branches didn't answer to the Unovan boss, but all the same. Game Freak was powerful enough to stay under the radar of the Leagues but above the reach of any who would try to take them out of the picture. No one could ever spot a Game Freak employee, and no one would ever stop them. Their name was fitting, because although they profited nicely from their information, their job was but a game to them, and no one ever paid attention to the freaks. Really, they couldn't have been in a better position.

But whether it was wise to seek them out or not, Cheren knew he wouldn't get his answers from anywhere else.

Fortunately, despite the company being so low on everyone's radar, his C-Gear was still able to give him directions to what had to be the most unassuming, bland skyscraper in all of Castelia City. Wedged tightly between two others, the Game Freak building didn't have a sign marking it out from the rest, nor any other impressive direction. All it had was a little, painted on insignia on each of the glass doors, a logo Cheren only recognized due to his father's work, but missed the first three times he passed by the building, his frustration mounting at what he thought were poor directions given by his C-Gear. It was for this reason that he pushed the glass doors open with a little more force than necessary as he entered the building, something the receptionist noticed if the alarm in her eyes was any indication.

"Excuse me," she asked, her eyes following him as he stalked toward the elevator. Her voice rose in pitch due to stress as he ignored her. "Do you have an appointment?"

"An appointment?" he asked, a bit flatly as he paused by the elevator doors. The receptionist — Holly, her nametag said — relaxed a little, and nodded.

"Yes. All guests to Game Freak, Incorporated must have an appointment." She lifted a little planner she kept with her behind the counter, as if he wouldn't believe her without evidence. "If you'd like, I can see if you're scheduled."

"Don't waste your time," he said, and she set the notebook down, giving him a courteous smile. "Do you really expect me to believe anyone makes appointments with these people?" The look she gave him was nothing short of incredulous.

"They do—people do make appointments, I mean. Game Freak, Incorporated is a quickly rising production company that strives to treat each of its clients with the utmost care—"

"Right." It was rude to interrupt, and ordinarily Cheren made more of a point to be polite, but just as he'd brimmed with nervous energy at the orphanage, he could feel that same impatience and anticipation swelling inside him now. "I'm sorry if this gets you in trouble, but though I don't have an appointment, I need to speak with someone who works here. So, if you don't mind, I'll see myself up."

"No, you can't—stop!" Holly pulled up a pokéball as Cheren jammed his finger against the 'up' button on the elevator, and he raised an eyebrow at her. "Stop right now. If you don't stop, then — whether you're young or not — I'll be forced to stop you."

"You shouldn't judge someone's skill based on their age," Cheren said, and he didn't bother to keep the derision out of his voice. Holly faltered a little, but she no less held her pokéball out, as though he should feel threatened by it regardless of what he said. "Usually, I'd take you up on your offer to battle, since it's a battle I'm sure I'd win, anyway. But as it stands . . ." A soft _ding _announced the arrival of the elevator, and the metal doors slid open. "My lift is here." He stepped into the elevator and hit the button for the highest floor — twenty-two — as Holly threw her pokéball. The elevator door closed as a haxorus materialized in the middle of the lobby, and despite the admittedly arrogant claim he'd made about being positive he could beat her before, Cheren found himself quite glad that he hadn't taken her up on her challenge.

Although there weren't any other calls to any other floors, the elevator took its sweet time reaching floor twenty-two, and Cheren found his agitation growing—both because of his discomfort at riding in an elevator (he knew what they were, of course, but had never ridden in one before and wasn't particularly enjoying the claustrophobic experience now, especially with the faux pleasant music that was playing over the elevator speakers), and the confrontation that he knew awaited him once he reached the twenty-second floor. His determination to get the information he sought aside, if all of the Game Freak employees were as well-armed as Holly was (and he had no reason to think they wouldn't be), he could very well be in over his head, something he always accused Lea of doing, but never thought he would do himself.

Still, if he was going to emulate Lea, then he was going to emulate not only her tendency for trouble, but also her refusal to back down from whatever mess she got herself into.

The elevator reached floor twenty-two with another soft _ding_, and when the doors slid open Cheren found himself not in a hallway, as he'd expected, but instead in a large room, lit with soft, warm lighting, and furnished with desks of deep redwood and lush red carpets. The room was sectioned off with cubicle walls, including one such partition directly across from the elevator. There were people sitting on the other side of the partition — Cheren could see their outlines through the frosted glass — and as he stepped off the elevator, one stood up and walked around the partition.

"Ah, yes. Holly said you were on your way." The man who spoke looked fairly young — in his late twenties at most — but there was an aged look in his eyes that suggested he could have been older. Despite the fact that the building was warm, he wore a long, dark coat, and an equally as dark hat to shadow his face. Cheren put his hands in his jacket pockets, gripping his pokéballs tightly just in case, as the man smiled. "It's not often that people get past her. You must be something else, to throw her for a loop."

"Are we going to waste time on pleasantries, or can we get to the point?" Cheren asked. The man laughed, and the other men — still sitting on the other side of the partition — laughed as well.

"You _are _bold, and while that doesn't surprise me considering the fact that you barged in here without an appointment, I'd hoped you'd be a little smarter." The man had his hands in the pocket of his own coat, and Cheren realized that he could just as easily be holding his pokémon, too. If the man's pokémon were anywhere near the level of Holly's haxorus . . . Cheren swallowed.

"I only mean to say that I don't want to waste time. Time is money here in Castelia, isn't it?" The man's smile never wavered.

"Knowledge even more so, at least as far as we're concerned. Come around here, boy; let's take a seat and talk." The man walked back around the partition, and though no part of Cheren wanted to sit down and share a table, he knew he had no choice. Keeping his head high, he followed the man around the partition, to a round table where two other men were sitting—one with a round belly, the other with a crew cut. All were drinking. Cheren stiffly took a seat between the man with the round belly and the man with the long coat, never removing his hands from his jacket pocket as he did so.

"What's your name?" the man with the crew cut asked. A retort about how it was rude to ask for one's name without giving your own first was on the tip of his tongue, but Cheren managed to swallow it down.

"Cheren Alabaster." As he had at the orphanage, Cheren watched their faces for a reaction, but none came. He wasn't surprised. Even if they weren't likely very used to keeping schooled expressions no matter what happened, there was no way his adopted father held enough clout in the company to earn any sort of recognition. The man in the long coat nodded.

"Good to know. I'm Morimoto, CEO and president of Game Freak, Incorporated here in Unova. To my right is Fujiwara, and to your left is Nishino."

"Those are . . . interesting names," Cheren said carefully. "They're aliases, aren't they?" Morimoto smiled thinly.

"Nice catch. I hope you didn't expect anything different."

"Not really, no."

Morimoto picked up a bottle of alcohol sitting on the table and poured a little into his glass. He passed the bottle to Fujiwara before he sat back in his seat, eyeing Cheren over the rim. "So, Mr. Alabaster. Care to tell us why you decided to barge into our office this fine morning?"

"I need information."

"As does everyone who comes to visit us."

"Specifically, I need information about my biological father." Cheren kept his eyes focused on Morimoto, though he could feel Fujiwara and Nishino watching him as braviary would prey. "I know his occupation—or at least, what his occupation was at the time of my birth—but I need his name, as well as information on where I can find him. I'm willing to pay you."

Morimoto started laughing, and he wasn't alone. Fujiwara's laughter caused him to splash a bit of his drink on the front of his suit, while Nishino's laughter sounded like a rockslide down a mountain. "You'd be _willing _to pay us?" Nishino choked out amidst his guffaws, and Cheren turned to give him an unimpressed look, feeling insulted despite the fact that he knew they had every right to be laughing. "You really are brazen, boy."

"I meant," Cheren began, and he forced his voice to remain neutral, though his nails were digging into his palms inside of his jacket pockets, "that I'm _able _to pay you. I may not have as much money as you would ordinarily charge your clients, but I'll part with what I have."

"Meaning that you'll empty your pockets to hire us?" Fujiwara asked, and he snorted, taking another drink. "How typical." This time, Cheren couldn't help it; he glared.

"Meaning?"

"Meaning that you're like any other wet behind the ears brat who wants something done, and wants it done now, though he doesn't have any idea of how to go about it," Fujiwara said bluntly, and Nishino laughed again, while Morimoto watched Cheren. "How did you even find us, anyway? Did you look us up on the internet and happen to get lucky with directions?"

"As if looking Game Freak, Incorporated up on the internet would yield anything useful," Cheren snapped, and Morimoto smiled wryly. "My fath—adopted father works freelance for you, part—time."

This brought Nishino's chuckles up short and caused raised eyebrows in the other two. Fujiwara continued to look on the skeptical side of hostile, while Morimoto leaned forward in his seat. "Well, well. That's certainly a ponyta of a different color. If that's the case, why don't you ask your dear old adopted father to get you the information you seek? No doubt he has access to at least some of our databases, if he is a freelance agent as you say."

"It would be awkward, to say the very least, to ask him for information on my biological father," Cheren said tightly, and Morimoto shrugged, as if giving him that one. "I would really appreciate it if you would take me on as your client."

"And if we do, what do we get out of it in return?" Fujiwara asked, and he spun his glass slowly around on the table. Cheren felt his heart starting to beat a little faster due to the excess of adrenaline.

"I already said that I will pay you—"

"No amount of chump change you can offer us will entice us," Fujiwara said, waving him off. "When we take money from clients, we take _large_ sums of money from clients. _Huge_. There's no way you'd have the kind of cash we want, unless you were adopted by Daddy Warbucks."

"Well, there has to be _something_ I can offer you." It was hard to keep the impatience and desperation out of his voice by this point, and he looked from Fujiwara to Nishino, back to Fujiwara, over to Morimoto. "If not money, then something else."

"Tell you what." Morimoto set his glass down on the table, and eyed Cheren with narrowed eyes and a coy smirk. "How about we make a deal? We'll find the information that you seek, and give it to you. In return, you sign a contract with us promising us one favor."

"One favor?"

"One favor, that we can call upon at any time, that you can't refuse regardless of what it is. Bear in mind that when I say any time, I _mean _any time. It could be tomorrow, it could be fifty years from now. It could be the week you're on your death bed. Until that favor is repayed, you'll be in Game Freak, Incorporated's debt." Morimoto leaned back in his chair, steepleling his fingers over his chest. "What do you say, Cheren Alabaster? Is the information you seek worth that?"

The idea of being in anyone's debt wasn't a pleasing one, much less Game Freak, Incorporated's. The soft lighting and plush carpeting aside, there was something cold about the atmosphere in the office, something alarming about the fact that the receptionist was willing to use a _haxorus _to keep unwanted visitors at bay. Even if he didn't know what he knew about them, Cheren would be able to tell that placing himself in their debt wasn't the best idea he'd ever been presented with. It was a cliché, but Cheren had the distinct feeling that this was a real—world deal with the devil.

"One favor?" he asked, locking his gaze with Morimoto's. Morimoto's smirk widened, and he nodded.

"Just one favor."

One favor that could be anything, cashed in at any time. And in return, Cheren would know his biological father's name.

"Where do I sign?"

* * *

The second they'd reached Castelia City, Cheren had headed immediately off with barely a word of goodbye, and Lea had bolted into the crowd, not even sparing them a backward glance. But while Bianca felt overwhelmed by the sheer size of the skyscrapers and the thick crowds around them, she stuck close to Blair, holding his hand as she tugged him through the crowds that jostled and threatened to separate them. There was so much to see and so much to do that Bianca didn't know where to start, and perhaps that was why she'd followed a man dressed as a clown as he led them back to a building called the Survey Center.

That was how a stack of surveys was shoved into her hands and Blair's, and the two of them were thrust back out into Castelia's streets to collect the results.

"Well, at least we're learning the layout of the city this way, right, Blair?" Bianca asked brightly, as Blair tried — and failed — to get a woman's attention to ask her what her favorite hobby was. Blair looked over at her with a dejected expression, and Bianca sighed. "Yeah, you're right. This probably isn't the best way to spend our time. . . . Want to ditch?"

"Ditch?" Blair asked, confused. He looked down at the stack of surveys in his hands. "But we're not even close to being done . . ." Bianca laughed.

"That's the point of ditching. Here, I'll do what Lea always did with her homework." Bianca took the stack of surveys from Blair's hands, added them to her own pile, and then dropped them in a nearby trash can. He gaped at her. "There. All done! Now, how about we use our newfound knowledge of the city to go do something fun? I saw a beautiful art museum earlier! And there's also the Castelia Cone cart. Ooh, and I saw just the best looking shopping center earlier—do you like shopping, Blair?"

"Um . . . it's okay," Blair said, as Bianca once again took his hand so that they wouldn't get separated in the crowd. She could tell that he was nervous, likely due to the thick crowds around them, but the fact that she had him talking to her in complete sentences was a definite plus as far as she was concerned. He was finally beginning to relax—they were making progress! "But, uh, are you sure that it's all right to throw the surveys away? I—I mean, I don't want to . . . to get in trouble . . ."

"Well, while I do hope we don't make Survey Coordinators too upset, because it would be just awful of us to do that after they were so nice to us, I don't think we can get in trouble if we never go back," Bianca said, and she couldn't help but laugh a little at the way Blair's eyes widened. "It's true! It isn't like when Lea would ditch class or homework back in Nuvema Town, because she had no choice but to see Professor Juniper later. We have all the choices in the world not to go back to the Survey Center, so I don't think there's very much they can do to us."

"I . . . guess you're right . . ." Blair said after a moment, and Bianca smiled, bumping their shoulders together as she laced her fingers through his.

"So, what should we do? We have the whole city . . . there's always that art museum I mentioned earlier. Oh, and I heard there's a darling little pie shop on 22nd Street! Although, it's a bit early for pie just now, isn't—oh!" Bianca stopped suddenly, her green eyes going wide, before she pointed wildly in front of them with her free hand. "Blair! Blair, look! Look at that bookstore—isn't it _enormous_?"

"Yeah," he said quietly, and he nodded, just in case she didn't hear him. "Do you, um . . . we could go check it out if . . ."

"Ooh, yes! Let's!" Bianca all but yanked him forward, quickly weaving through the crowds as she made her way toward the three story bookstore, Blair hastening to keep up. According to the large black lettering on the outside of the building, the bookstore was called 'BOUNDARIES,' and even at a distance a multitude of bookshelves could be seen through the tall, glass windows. Bianca ran the last few steps, releasing Blair's hand so that she wouldn't cause him to trip, and she didn't stop until she'd pushed her way through the front doors, taking a deep breath to breathe in the scent of coffee and new books.

"Isn't this wonderful, Blair?" she asked him, as he came to stand beside her again. "Isn't this the _best_?"

Aside from smelling of coffee due to the attached café, the fluorescent lights along the ceiling glowed gold instead of cold white, casting a warm glow around the store as it gleamed off polished wooden shelves. The bookstore was crowded, but instead of being loud and ridiculously claustrophobic, people seemed to keep to themselves as they milled through the shelves, examining books, calendars, and magazines. Bianca looked over at Blair as he cast his eyes around the first level, looking toward the café, and then back to the maze of bookshelves, and large black signs hanging above each section. Finally, he shrugged, though a little smile was twitching his lips.

"It's . . . pretty cool."

"Isn't it just?" Bianca beamed, and took his hand again as she started forward. "I bet there are a million books in here — maybe more! Just think, we could spend ages looking around in here—and look!" She pointed to a small seating area, outfitted with leather couches and chairs. "We could even find some nice books and just stay in here to read, too! Oh, I could spend my whole life in here. I would. I'd never stop!"

"You really like reading, huh?" Blair asked quietly. Bianca paused by a table where leatherbound, fairy tale classics were displayed, and she picked one up to examine as she replied.

"I love it. You can never go wrong with a good book. You could read a darling love story, or a daring adventure, or a compelling mystery—or you could read nonfiction, like a history book, or even a textbook on any subject you can imagine." Bianca turned her smile to him, and Blair's cheeks flushed red, though he kept his eyes on her face. "And no matter what you read, even if it's just a made up story, you can learn so much. Books are wonderful! Lea never thought so, and Cheren only ever read what he needed to for our classes, but . . ." Bianca's smile turned a bit soft as she looked back down at the fairy tale book in her hands. "I love reading. I always have, and I always will." She set the fairy tale book down as they started walking again. "What about you? This isn't boring you, is it?"

"N-No, not at all." He put his hands in his pullover pocket. "I . . . I like to read. Fiction, mostly. Fantasy."

"Oh! I love fantasy! What's your favorite book?"

"Well, I, um . . . I like the Discworld seri—" Bianca cut him off with a loud gasp, and he looked over at her in surprise.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to cut you off, but—I _love _that series!" She took both of his hands in her own and hopped a little on the spot due to excitement, and he smiled tentatively at her.

"You do?"

"Yes! I love the line of books about the witches, especially Maskerade— it's my all—time favorite." Blair's smile came a little more easily, and he started walking along with her again.

"The Rincewind series is my favorite, although I also really liked Mort—"

"Oh, yes, the Death books are just fantastic! I also really enjoyed Small Gods—"

"Yeah, me too! Especially because, did you notice that . . ."

* * *

There was a lot to do in Castelia City. There were stores to shop at, vendors to purchase food from, parks to visit, mini tournaments to compete in—if there was some form of entertainment you wanted to partake in, odds were you could find it in the city. And all of that was fine and dandy to Lea—really, it was, and when she saw the towering buildings and the lights that were bright even in the middle of the morning, she took off at first to do just that. She thought about seeing a street show, or having a dance battle in the park, or trying to imitate some of the urban ninja, parkour videos she'd seen on the internet months prior to leaving for her journey.

But instead of doing any of that — instead of participating in any good, clean fun — Lea instead found herself in a shady back alley, purchasing a boat ticket from a complete stranger. In her defense — if she needed a defense, which she was sure she would if she told Cheren about this later — it wasn't as if she ended up in that alley on _purpose_. It was just that she'd gotten lost, and ended up there, and had the unfortunate habit of responding when people called out to her, even if they smelled of stale cigarette smoke and had their face mostly obscured by a dirty grey hood.

"Hey. Hey, you. Wanna buy a Liberty Pass?"

"A Liberty Pass?" Lea turned as the stranger approached her, pushing himself off the brick wall so that he could walk closer. He fished the pass out of his sweatshirt pocket and held it up so that she could see it, though he kept it just out of her reach in case she tried to pull a fast one. In his defense, she did consider it. "What is it?"

"What is it?" he asked incredulously, a little laugh in his voice. "It's a ticket to get you on a boat to Liberty Garden. Best tourist spot in the city, and normally these babies run about twelve hundred pokédollars. But because I'm sweet, I'll sell it to you for just a grand."

Lea didn't like to be thought of as a tourist, but the situation she was currently in was reminiscent of something she'd seen a thousand times in movies and on television before. Recreating a fictional event in real life was always enticing to her, given her want for the adventurous and dramatic, and on top of that, she liked to live life on the edge. "Are you one of those illegal ticket vendor people? Like, a scalper, or whatever they're called?"

"Scalper is _such _a harsh word," he said, a pained look on his face. Lea rolled her eyes.

"Whatevs, whatevs, but that's what you are, right?"

"I prefer the term 'entrepreneur,'" he said, and though Lea wasn't sure what that word meant specifically, she figured it was close enough to 'scalper' for it to count. "So, what do you say? Are you in?"

"I don't have twelve hundred pokédollars," she said, and it was a lie, but Lea had seen enough scalpers on television to know how to play it. "So, sorry, Rob Marley, but I've got places to be and people to see, and things to do and chicks to woo—"

"Hey now." Her friendly neighborhood scalper looped around so that he blocked her exit from the alley, and Lea raised her eyebrows at him, folding her arms across her chest. "We can always . . . _negotiate_. How much do you have?" Lea huffed an exaggerated scoff, blowing loose strands of hair away from her face.

"Five hundred, but I'm not gonna give it all to you for some ticket. That's way too cray, even for me." The scalper considered.

"How about four fifty?"

"Two hundred."

"Four hundred."

"Two fifty."

"Three seventy-five."

"Three fifty."

"Done." Lea fished the appropriate number of bills out of the back pocket of her travel bag (because whatever Cheren thought about her organizational skills, she refused to buy a wallet), and handed the crumpled mess over to the scalper, who handed her the Liberty Pass in return. "Pleasure doing business with ya, babe."

"Yeah, yeah, whatevs." Lea tucked the Liberty Pass into her bra with her pokéballs, ignoring the incredulous look the scalper gave her as she did so, and asked, "So, why're you hangin' out in this shady alley, anyway? I'm lost, so that gives me legit reason to be here, but what's your shtick?"

"Take a look around," he said, and pointed over her shoulder. Lea turned, and though it was easy to miss due to the low lighting and bland decor, his direction allowed her to spot the door of a little café built into the side wall. "Tourists love this place. If there's anywhere to sell Liberty Passes, it's here."

"Oh. Fair enough. So, this Liberty Pass—where can I cash it?"

"The Liberty Pier," the scalper said, with another incredulous little laugh, as if the information should be obvious. She twisted her lips in distaste, but held back from socking him in his laughing jaw, if only barely. "Follow the alley out this way. Keep going until you hit the ocean—can't miss it."

"Right. Got it. Later, Prof Slader." Lea flipped him a two fingered salute before she headed out of the alley, figuring that it was best to get the Hell out of there before he either understood what she was referencing and felt duly insulted, or she decided to follow her instincts and hit him for laughing at her like she so dearly wanted to.

The one thing the scalper did have going for him, at the very least, was that he gave her good directions. True to his word, though it took a great deal of effort not to let her be distracted by a couple of street mimes, and though she _did _find herself distracted by a cart selling the biggest slices of pizza she'd ever seen in her life (and, if her growling stomach and delighted taste buds had any say, it was a worthy distraction), she headed in a relatively straight line, and eventually found herself at the Liberty Pier.

Located at the extreme west end of Castelia City, the Liberty Pier was — in comparison to all of the other piers — the smallest and least impressive. Lea had been hoping that her Liberty Pass would grant her access to a cruise ship larger than the planet itself, one that — when she stood on its bow — would make her feel even more fantastic and goddess—like than standing on the highest point of Skyarrow Bridge had. Instead, the boat docked at Liberty Pier was small, at least in comparison to the luxury liner at the next pier over, and as she chewed on her pizza crust, Lea felt herself doubting that it would be able to hold all of the people gathered near it on the dock. But while she didn't have any interest in most of them — the sticky kids with Castelia Cones that dripped ice cream down their arms or the overweight tourist men in floral print shirts — there was one person that caught her eye, standing on the fringe of the crowd, his hands in his pockets as he bounced back and forth on the balls of his feet.

"Hey!" Her voice was muffled a bit by the last chunk of pizza crust in her mouth, but she swallowed it quickly and dusted the crumbs from her hands onto her shorts as she jogged over to him. "Uh, N!" She grinned as he turned, showing that she'd remembered the right letter that was his name, and he smiled an off—kilter smile at her as she neared.

"Lea. What are you doing here?" His speech was as rapid fire as always, but Lea was confident she could match him tit-for-tat, and she pulled her Liberty Pass out of her bra.

"I've got a ticket. Not a golden one, but it'll do. What about you?" N tilted his head to the side and furrowed his brow, though the smile never left his face.

"Golden ticket? I wasn't aware there were golden tickets."

"Uh, there's not? Not really, anyway." He continued to stare at her in confusion, and Lea raised her eyebrows. "Dude, c'mon, it's a classic movie. Are you seriously telling me you've never seen—"

"Will all passengers to Liberty Island please form an orderly line in front of the loading dock?" Lea looked up to see a man dressed in a sailing uniform addressing them all with a megaphone, a Liberty Pass held up in one hand. "We'll be checking your Liberty Passes as you board. Please have them ready!"

N reached into his pocket and slid out a Liberty Pass with two fingers, and held it up in front of her eyes for her to examine. "It isn't golden, but as you said, it'll suffice. Shall we board?"

"That's what we're here for, isn't it?" Lea elbowed her way to the middle of the line, and grabbed N's wrist to drag him along with her. The line moved quickly enough, but either way, Lea wasn't the type to willingly go to the back and wait her turn. "It's time for our three hour tour to some uncharted desert isle."

"Liberty Garden isn't three hours away," N said, and Lea felt her jaw drop a little.

"You have gotta be joking me. You don't get that reference, either?"

"What reference?"

"Tickets?"

Lea turned away from N to hold her Liberty Pass up to the sailor, who nodded and waved her onboard. When she and N were both walking along the ship's deck toward the railing at the bow, Lea stuck her hands in her pockets and said, "Man, you are seriously worse than Captain Unova from The Avengers." Silence met her remark, and she asked in a deadpan voice, "You don't get that reference either, do you."

"Not at all."

Lea all but slumped over the railing in exaggerated disbelief at his response as N himself merely leaned against it, drumming his fingers in a steady, four-beat rhythm against the metal bars. As the rest of the passengers made their way on board and the small ship's crew started the preparations for departure, Lea eyed N out of the corner of her eye. He wasn't looking at her, instead choosing to stare out into the distance (presumably, if she had to guess, looking for their destinaton), but that was fine by her, because it gave her plenty of time to remember something she'd noticed about him when they first met.

"Dude, you are really, freakishly pale, and you don't seem to get anything I'm saying, ever. Just how long _have _you been living underground, anyway?"

As the ship started to pull away from the pier, N turned to look sharply at her, his fingers ceasing their drumbeat on the metal railing. "Who told you that?" he demanded, and the question was almost a snap. Lea raised her eyebrows, and hopped up to sit on the railing, gripping it tightly so she wouldn't topple off backwards.

"Uh, no one. It was just a guess—more of a joke, really. 'Cause, uh, have you looked in the mirror recently? You look like one of the walking dead. You know, a zombie. And since you are apparently a freak who has never watched _Chuckie and the Chocolate Factory_ or _Milligan's Island_, I think you being a zombie is probably a safe bet." She paused. "Just so you know, I've logged hundreds of hours into _Left 2 Death_ and _Grass-types vs. Zombies_, so if you suddenly decide you've got some kind of crazy craving for my flesh and brain, I'm completely prepared to kick your ass."

N snorted, and began his four-beat drumming against the metal railing again. "I don't understand the meaning of your words, but I don't eat meat." He was quiet a moment save for his drumming fingers before he added, "Flesh and brains are meat." This time, it was Lea's turn to laugh a little.

"Duh. Even I know that." Silence stretched between them again, as N watched the sea ahead, and Lea looked up to the sky. After a few minutes passed, the silence started to feel oppressive to Lea, and so she asked, "How do you do it, anyway?"

"Do what?"

"Not eat meat. I mean, just _thinking _about meat is making me want to kill for a bacon double cheeseburger." She turned on the railing so that she was straddling it, and N turned his head to look at her, his fingers never breaking their stride as he furrowed his brow.

"It's simple. I don't put it in my mouth. I don't chew. I don't swallow." Lea rolled her eyes.

"Well, okay, yeah, duh, if you wanna be all literal about it. But I mean, seriously, how do you even stand it? There's nothing on this earth more delicious than a double bacon cheeseburger, you know? _Nothing_, except maybe a Castelia City strip steak. Seriously, sometimes my dad will bring one of those puppies home, and it's the most delicious thing—"

"Are they making steaks out of lillipup these days?" N asked in a dark voice, and the drumming of his fingers picked up pace against the metal railing. He looked angry, if Lea had to guess, though she'd be the first to admit that she wasn't the best at reading other's emotions—that was always Bianca's department.

"No. Remember what I said, like, one point five seconds ago about literalness? Totally not being serious here. I mean, I _am_ being serious when it comes to the orgasmic deliciousness of Castelia City strip steaks, but the use of the word 'puppies' did not mean literal puppies. Who would want to eat a literal puppy? They're adorbs, yeah, but they probably taste terrible. I mean, Bi's pretty adorbs at times, but I'd never want to eat _her_. That'd be cannibalism, anyway, and that's just kinda gross, not to mention I hear it makes you go completely cray, like, three Starburst short of a full pack cray. At least, that's what this documentary that Cheren, Bi and I watched one night said. Worst documentary to watch at a slumber party ever. It ended up making Cheren sick—he tossed his cookies all over my bedroom floor. It really sucked." Lea paused. "What were we talking about again?"

"_You _were talking about how you like to eat innocent pokémon."

"Oh, right. Meat. It's what's for dinner. Or lunch. Or sometimes breakfast. Nothing beats a nice bacon sandwich in the morning."

"You _train _a tepig, how can you—" N stopped, sucked in a sharp breath, and shook his head. "Nevermind. Forget that I said anything."

"Y'okay." Lea swung her left leg back over the banister, so that both feet were above the ship's deck again. "But I don't train a tepig, you know." N looked over and gave her a dark look.

"Did you eat him?"

"What?" Lea gave him an incredulous look, and when she saw that he was serious, made a face. "Dude, that's seriously sick, get real. No, what I meant was, he evolved into a bropig while we were battling some douchenozzles in a café back in Nacrene City." Lea reached into her shirt, pulled Ganon's pokéball out of her bra, and pressed the center button twice. N turned, looking upon her pignite with interest as Ganon sniffed the air. "See? Total bropig."

"He evolved into pignite. I see." A little smile twitched at N's lips, and he turned to crouch down, causing Ganon to look over at him with twitching ears. "I hope Lea is treating you well—as well as you could be treated, given the circumstances. I never had a chance to ask you before—what's your name?"

"Uh, I already told you his name. It's Ganon," Lea said, but N ignored her, instead focusing on Ganon, who snorted. N nodded.

"I see, I see. That's a fitting name—it accentuates your strength." Ganon snorted again, a little smoke furling out from his nostrils, and Lea began to wonder where, exactly, it was that N misplaced his marbles. "My name is N. It's nice to finally get to introduce myself to you formally. I'm sorry it took so long." Ganon made a grunting sound, which caused N to laugh and nod. "Right, right. I should have known better. I'm sorry."

Lea watched as N and Ganon appeared to apparently converse for a few minutes before she said, "You know, N, you're an awesome conversationalist. Seriously, I'm so glad we got to take this awesome boat ride together." He ignored her, instead continuing to talk to her pignite, and so Lea sighed, turning her attention to the sky as she started to kick her feet against the railing.

She was bored already.

When the little ship finally docked at Liberty Garden, an island that — to Lea — looked to be closer to a smaller city on a nearby shore than it was to Castelia, instead of disembarking with the rest of the passengers, Lea climbed over the metal railing that she had been sitting on, and hopped off the boat onto the grass. After a moment of deliberation (and Lea returning Ganon to his pokéball) N followed, his movements even more feline-esque than her own, as she turned her eyes to the large structure that dominated the center of the island. It was cylindrical in shape, and from what Lea could tell, it looked to be made out of metal; black and grey steel fused together, the two colors spiraling up to the top, where the metal cut away to reveal glass. It looked worn, as though years of sun, wind, and surf from the nearby ocean had stained it and weathered it smooth, and it was enough to make Lea think that the grey metal had once been white.

"So, that's Liberty Tower, huh?" she asked, and she didn't wait for a response. "It looks like a lighthouse. Why didn't they call it Liberty Lighthouse instead? That even rolls off the tongue easier! Liberty Lighthouse, Liberty Lighthouse . . ."

"It was constructed in 1886 to stand as a physical symbol not only of Unova's independence and freedom, but also as a symbol of unity between humans and pokémon." The information rolled off N's tongue easily enough to almost sound as though he had it memorized, and he scoffed derisively. "Though Liberty Tower was constructed to represent the unity and freedom of both humans and pokémon, I would say humans are the only ones that are free."

"Uh-huh." Lea would be the first to admit that she wasn't really listening to him as she looped around, closer to the grand structure. The second he had begun rattling off dates, facts, and figures she'd tuned him out, instead trying to see what the other guests to the island apparently saw. Back closer to the boat a man in a loud, floral print shirt was taking pictures, and small children 'oooh'd' and 'ahhh'd' as they pointed their sticky little fingers at the lighthouse. But although she craned her neck back as far as she could to see to the very top, where the two—toned metal gave way to the glass that allowed the beams of light to shine through, Lea couldn't see anything impressive. It was a lighthouse. Big deal! Was that really what she'd paid three hundred and fifty pokédollars to see? "So, is this it?"

"What do you mean?" N came up to stand next to her, and she tore her eyes away from the lighthouse to look back at him as she gestured toward it with one hand.

"Does it just stand here and look pretty? 'Cause seriously, if that's all it does, I'm already bored and I wanna go back. There was way more to do in Castelia than just look at some giant black 'n' white thing." N considered her for a moment before a small smile curled his lips, and he walked a few paces away, hands in his pockets.

"_Well_, there is more, if you know where to look."

"Where to look?" Lea gave him a bemused look, and followed after. "What's that supposed to mean? Spill it, Bob Skillet. If there's something fun and-or dangerous here, I wanna know." She blinked as he offered his hand to her, waggling his fingers enticingly.

"Come with me, and I'll show you."

Lea stared at him a moment more before she bared her teeth in a grin, and took his hand in a white—knuckled grip. He didn't seem to mind the forcefulness of her grip and returned it, tugging her toward him across the grass as he started to run around the lighthouse. But rather than let him lead her, Lea started sprinting, dragging him so forcefully he nearly tripped.

"If we're going to run, we're going to _run_!" she told him, looking back at him rather than ahead, where she was going. "There's no use in it if you're just gonna _jog_! Who jogs? Jogging's for wusses and failpuppets!"

"You don't know where you're going," he called back, and without breaking stride, Lea shrugged at him.

"So?!"

Instead of answering her verbally, N grinned, and put on a sudden spurt of speed so that he pulled ahead, causing Lea to stumble a bit as she ran. He didn't have to say anything for her to get the message. He had accepted her challenge—she finally had someone who was willing to run with her, willing to _race_ her. And if there was one thing that Lea would never, ever do, it was turn down someone who was willing to race, even if they _were _still holding hands.

So it happened that, as they ran around the massive structure, acting more like a pair of wild things than normal tourists, they constantly fought to remain in the lead, pushing themselves to the limit of endurance and speed. At about the same height and build, neither one had a significant physical advantage over the other, and as a result, by the time they reached the destination N had in mind, they were running side by side. Still, N slowed as they reached the hidden door, and jerked Lea back so that she wouldn't keep running past him. She stumbled as she turned, and though she tried to regain her balance, she tripped just badly enough to fall back into him, causing him to trip over his own feet as he tried to maintain his balance, and both of them to tumble onto the grass.

"Dude, what the hell," Lea said, and she released his hand to untangle herself from him, jumping back onto her feet so she could brush it off and try to pretend the humiliating lack of grace never happened. "If that was your way of trying to cheat, it totally didn't work. Even if you did cause me to trip — and not even that I tripped, 'cause that whole thing? It was _so_ on purpose—but even if you _did_ cause me to trip, I was _still _in the lead when you pulled that flashy little stunt, so hah! I still won!" She stuck her tongue out at him as he stood up, not even bothering to dust the grass off his jeans. "Winner, winner, blue-ribbon pinner, that's me."

"I don't understand the meaning of your words, but we're here," N said, and he waved one hand to indicate what, to Lea, looked like part of the same dual-colored metal that comprised the rest of the lighthouse. She raised her eyebrows at him.

"Uh, is this supposed to impress me? 'Cause if so, you're doing a suck job at it." Instead of being offended, he smiled.

"Watch." N walked over to the side of the lighthouse and ran his fingers along it, carefully feeling along the edges between each metal sheet as though looking for something. A few seconds passed before Lea folded her arms and tapped her foot a bit impatiently, but when she opened her mouth to ask him if he was trying to find his way to Narnia or not, he grinned, and pulled part of the metal away from the side of the lighthouse.

Or at least, that was what she thought he did, at first.

In truth, all he did was slide open a hidden door, revealing a dark entryway just on the other side. Lea's mouth dropped open a little as N reached inside of the doorway and flicked on a light, which lit up the inside with a bright fluorescent glow. He tuned back to her with a smug grin, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet, his hands in his pockets. "Impressed?" he asked. Lea scoffed.

"That you found some cool secret door that leads to some kind of ultra cool secret pathway that's probably the super cool secret base of some ultra-powerful, crazed supervillain? Pfft. Never." Lea walked past him to step into the entryway of the lighthouse, and as N followed her inside, he shut the secret door behind them. "How'd you even know this was here?"

"I studied Liberty Tower some time ago. It's important that I know everything about Unova, particularly anything pertaining to its history and legends. Liberty Tower is part of that."

The space they were standing in, though lit with bright lights, was cramped. It was small and completely concrete, and while Lea was impressed at first because she hadn't expected it to be there, she could feel her interest quickly waning. In an attempt to keep it from escaping her completely, Lea ran her hands along the walls, trying to find something of note like he had.

"So," she asked, in what she hoped was a casual voice, "is this all there is?" N folded his arms, and leaned back against the wall with the secret door.

"That's a stupid thing to ask," he said, and she scowled at him. "You realize what this is, don't you? That door leads to this room, which in turn leads to this door," he knocked a fist on the wall next to him, and in the bright light Lea could realize it was colored a little differently than the surrounding concrete, "which leads to a staircase that maintenance staff can take to the top of the lighthouse. There, they can ensure that the lighthouse is in proper working order, as well as control when it's in operation, what strength the beam is at, et cetera."

"The lighthouse control room, huh? Sounds exciting." N must have picked up on the sarcasm in Lea's tone, for he smirked.

"This room also has _this _door." He knocked his fist on the wall on his other side, and again, Lea noted that the wall looked a bit discolored where he tapped. "This door leads to a staircase, which leads to the basement of Liberty Tower. Legend says that—"

"The basement?" Lea interrupted, and she couldn't help herself; she started to grin. "You mean some creepy, crawly basement filled with all manners of horrors and spectres and weird, goopy things in jars that we probably shouldn't drink, but if we did drink would end up turning us into some twisty, grisly monster dripping with pink slime and tentacles that grow out of our eye sockets? That kind of basement?" N stared at her for a moment, blank—faced before her excitement, before he said in a serious tone:

"The legends never said anything about that."

"Don't care. Let's do it!" Lea reached past him to fumble for the wall paneling, and though it took a minute for her to find the right groove, she managed to fit her fingers around the edge to slide the panel back, revealing the door and a narrow, winding stone staircase. There were no lights for this staircase, but there was a thin, unfinished wooden railing, and Lea — never the type to let a little darkness scare her away — grabbed the railing as she took the basement stairs, two at a time. N followed quickly after, and he left the secret door open to afford them at least a little light as they started down.

"Do you know anything of the Unova legends, Lea?" N asked. "Particularly anything pertaining to the legendary pokémon Victini?"

"Nope. Why? Is it some kind of super—destructive, all—powerful, force of nature, god—tier pokémon?"

"No. _Well_, perhaps, but not in the way you're implying. Not everything is about power, or destruction."

"All the interesting stories are. Oh!" Lea hopped off the second to last step, nearly bumping into a wall as she did so. "Hey, I think this is another door! Gimme a second, let me jimmie it . . . boo yah!" She slid the door open, allowing them entrance to a new room, though it was too dark to see anything. "Now, if we can just find some lights . . ."

"There weren't any notes on this room beyond the fact that it existed. I don't know where the lights are," N said. Lea didn't respond, and instead fumbled with the buttons on her C-Gear, hitting them at random until she managed to activate the flashlight function, causing a little halo of light to flare up from her wrist. Grinning, she cast the light from her C-Gear around the room until she finally managed to locate a dusty string dangling from the ceiling. Darting over, Lea grabbed it and tugged, causing a bare bulb to sputter to life and illuminate the room with an orange glow.

Truth be told, the fact that there was only one source of light in the room didn't surprise Lea. Nor did the fact that said source of light was only a bare bulb, nor did the fact that the bare bulb was activated by a piece of dirty string. All of that fit right according to plan to her, for while she didn't have any real life experience when it came to creepy basements, she'd seen enough television and read enough comic books to know what the situation was supposed to be like.

But it was for that very reason that she found herself baffled, and then disappointed.

It wasn't a creepy basement at all. Instead, the circular room — far more cozy than the basement of a giant lighthouse any right being — was dusty, but homely. Instead of concrete, the floor was covered with a thin blue carpet, with galaxy designs on it. The walls didn't have wallpaper, but they were painted with chipped cream paint that looked old, but still neatly applied. There were toys strewn about the floor, such as a little train and various balls, and picture books with pieces of the pages missing as though chewed away. Lea frowned as she walked across the room, nudging a few of the balls with her foot, while N himself darted straight to a pile near the right wall.

"The hell is all this?" Lea asked after a moment, and she crouched down by a small pile of balls. A cream colored one was right in front of her, a little orange V seemingly taped on. "Who fills a creepy basement with space carpet and toys? Seriously, what TV shows did they ever watch?"

"It's not about television." N was sorting through one of the piles of toys, carefully moving each one out of the way, as if looking for something. "The legends of Liberty Tower say that the legendary pokémon Victini is supposed to rest in the basement, awaiting the worthy Hero to come free it. These toys are probably here for Victini's amusement, but I don't understand. Where is Victini? There's no way it could have left. I've never been here before."

"Huh. Beats me. I don't even know what a 'Victini' is." Lea looked away from N to look back at the balls by her feet, and out of an impulse to poke something in a vain effort to amuse herself, she reached out and nudged the cream colored ball with her finger, and then froze.

The first thing she noticed was that instead of being made out of rubber, the cream colored ball was covered in fur.

The second thing she noticed was that it didn't roll when she nudged it. Instead, it just jolted a little.

The third thing she noticed was that, after its initial twitch, it uncurled and revealed itself not to be a ball at all, but a little creature, instead.

If she was standing, the little creature would probably only be ankle-height, with the tips of its ridiculously large, orange, v-shaped ears reaching her calves. Ears, claws, and feet aside, the little creature was mostly cream colored, with two wings on its lower back, and big blue eyes. For a moment, Lea stared at the little creature, and the little creature stared just as blankly back at her. Two more heartbeats passed before the little creature's mouth opened in a large, toothy grin, and it held up one paw with its claws separated into a clear 'v for victory' pose.

"You are the kookiest little thing I have ever seen," Lea said, and the little creature's ears twitched as it bounced on its feet excitedly, still holding its paw up in the victory pose.

"I don't know what that means, but thank you," N said from across the room. Lea rolled her eyes, and picked the little creature up by one of its ears, holding it in front of her face for closer examination.

"Not you, Spock. I mean this . . . this thing. I think I found your 'Victini,' or whatever."

Something clattered behind her, and immediately afterward N ran across the room, stopping at a quick halt behind her. It occurred to her that he was standing stock still — far more still than she'd ever seen him stand before — but as soon as the thought entered her mind he moved to strike her wrist, causing her to drop Victini on the ground. She reached out and punched him in the leg.

"Hey, jerk-off, don't hit me."

"Don't hold a pokémon like that," he snapped back, and he crouched down beside her, his eyes on Victini even as he reprimanded her. "It could hurt them, and it's disrespectful, especially to a pokémon such as this." His voice took on a breathless note near the end, and he held one hand out to Victini as the small creature looked over at him. "It's an honor to meet you, Victini. My name is N. I've come to liberate you from your cruel imprisonment."

Victini continued to stare at N blankly for a moment before its attention switched back to Lea, another radiant grin splitting its furry face as it hopped up and down excitedly. N frowned, and Lea reached out to pick up Victini, and turn it to face N again.

"He's the one talking to you, little thing," Lea said, setting it back down on the ground. "Talk to him." Despite her words, Victini turned right back to her, chittering something excitedly, sounding — in Lea's humble opinion — like the bird pokémon that were fond of chirping at two a.m. outside of her bedroom window. "No, Thing, not me. I don't want to talk to you. Talk to _him_." Once again, she turned Victini toward N, but once again, Victini only stared at N for a second before looking back to her. Finally, Lea stood up and started walking backward, pointing to N even as Victini hopped after her. "Stupid Thing, I already told you, _he_ wants to talk to you, not _me_!"

"Don't call Victini a 'stupid thing,'" N said coldly, standing up. Lea looked from Victini to N, but she gestured to the small creature hopping after her.

"Well, what do you want me to call it, huh? You're the one trying to talk to it about liberation or whatever, and I want nothing to do with it, but it's obsessed with me." Lea looked down to find Victini sitting by her feet, grinning up at her in apparent adoration. "I think it imprinted on me like a baby torchic, or something. Y'know, like how the first thing a baby torchic sees is its mom, even if it's not? So like, I poked Thing, and Thing woke up and saw me, and was all like, 'ooh, mommy!' and I'm like, 'no, dude, N's your mommy,' but Thing's just not having it. I think that's what happened." Lea turned her attention back to Victini, and pointed to N. "_He's_ your mommy, Thing. Go chitter at _him_."

Far from wanting to chitter at N, however, Victini suddenly leaped three feet into the air and hovered there, its little wings flapping, a faint orange glow surrounding it. It floated a little higher so that it could stare at Lea at eye level, before it finally floated up to land on her hat. Lea sighed, and looked over at N.

"I mean, I guess it can chitter at you from my head, if it wants. Arceus damn it."

"You should be honored that Victini wants to ride on your head — you should consider yourself blessed," N said, and though his tone was still a bit cold, there was something else there that Lea couldn't quite identify. "But I don't understand. Why would Victini choose you and not me?" His voice became quieter, as though he was talking to himself even as he stared at Victini. "_I'm_ the Hero. I'm the one that's supposed to . . . so why _you_?"

"Dude, I don't know. It's not like I wanted the thing. It just kind of chose me." N's eyes snapped back to Lea's, and he glared at her.

"Stop calling Victini a 'thing'."

"It has no discernible gender, it sounds like a bird, it has big eyes and ears, and it can fly," Lea said flatly. "It's a thing. Right, Thing?" Victini chittered happily from her head, and Lea pointed one finger up at it. "Thing has spoken."

N frowned at her a second more before he looked up to Victini, his expression softening. "Are you _sure _you're all right with that, Victini?" he asked. Victini chirped, and something in that chirping must have meant something to N, for he sighed, his shoulders slumping a little. "Fine. If it's all right with you, I guess it's all right with me."

"Good. So, now that we've appeased you, your majesty, how's about we get outta here?" A strange looked crossed N's face, which Lea figured was due to her sarcastic joke, but as far as she was concerned, if he didn't want to be _treated_ like an uppity prince, then he shouldn't _act _like one. "'Cause it only just occurred to me, but that boat crew has no idea that we're down here, right? So they could leave at any time, and if they leave without us, we're kinda screwed."

"My friends could always help us back," N said, and it was Lea's turn to give him a strange look.

"What friends? I didn't know zombies had friends. And anyway, can zombies even swim?" Lea shook her head as N stared at her, and Victini dug its claws into her hat to hang on. "Whatever, never mind, doesn't matter. Let's just book it back to the boat, 'kay? Last one there has to buy lunch!" Without another word, Lea turned and bolted for the door, taking the stairs two at a time as Victini clung to her hat for dear life. N followed after, though he took the time to click the light off first, and shut the door to Victini's room behind him.

As it turned out, Lea was right to run; as the two of them raced toward the pier where the tourist boat was docked, the sailors were hoisting up the anchors in preparation for setting sail. Lea shouted at them to stop as best she could while running, flailing her arms frantically, but in the end, it was Victini blowing a burst of fire from its mouth that caught the sailor's attention and secured them a ride onboard.

"Man, who would've guessed that Thing could breathe fire?" Lea said, once they were safely back on deck, leaning against the railing again. Both she and N were a bit out of breath due to sprinting up the stairs and then across the island, but as she relaxed against the railing and focused on her breathing, she could feel it evening out. Victini clung to the railing beside her, swinging back and forth with a silly grin on its face. "That'll come in handy in the future, because of reasons."

N said nothing, and Lea looked over to see that he was staring at her, an inscrutable expression on his face. She raised her eyebrows.

"Okay, dude? What's with the crazy eyes? Are you pissed off about the zombie jokes? 'Cause I was just joking, y'know? I don't actually think you're a zombie."

"It's not that." N looked away to look back out at the ocean, his fingers drumming a four—beat rhythm against the metal railing. Lea also looked back out at the ocean, and if there was ever a part of her that thought N had at least a few marbles to spare, she wanted to correct that part and assure herself that, no, he really had lost all of them. "Do you know anything about the Unova legends? Anything at all? Anything about the stories of Zekrom, Reshiram, and the destined Hero?"

"I think my mom or dad told me those stories once, like, forever ago. Don't remember too much about 'em, except there was something about a war, and one of the dragons breathed fire, and I thought it'd be really cool if they started eating people, so then I pretended to be the fire—breathing one while all of my action figures were innocent townsfolk, and then my dad pretended to be the Hero so he could slay me and save the people." N looked over at Lea with a scandalized look as she grinned. "Good times. But anyway, if you want a story about a destined hero, you should play some of the _Legend of Zelda _games."

"_Legend of Zelda _games?" N deadpanned, yet although he was frowning at her, he asked after a moment, "What are those?" Lea smacked a palm to her forehead.

"Ugh, is there _anything_ that you actually know about? _Anything_? First The Avengers, and now this—although maybe I should tell you about The Avengers first, since you're totally Captain Unova." She hopped up onto the railing again, and Victini swung itself up to sit in her lap. N's frown deepened, but this time in confusion rather than disapproval.

"Captain Unova?"

"Yeah, he's this failbucket of a soldier who was injected with super serum and a truckload of radiation so that he could be a superhero, only you're him because he's from, like, the 40s, and so he doesn't get any references about anything ever, just like you don't . . ."

* * *

"Okay, here we are! Good luck, Blair! I'm sure you're going to do great."

Bianca gave Blair the most encouraging smile she could as they stopped in front of the Castelia City Gym, and she could tell from his expression that he was trying to smile back, but couldn't quite manage it. He fiddled with the pocket of his pullover for a moment, looking over at the Gym doors, before he looked back at her.

"Are you sure you . . . um, I mean, we could—I'm sure we could challenge together—"

"I would, but I promised I'd meet Lea at four to get Castelia Cones, and it's three forty, now," Bianca said, and her apologetic look brightened again as another thought occurred to her. "You could always come with me, if you want!" Blair shook his head quickly.

"Thanks, but I really want to get my badge, and . . . and Lea's . . ." he trailed off, and Bianca laughed.

"She's a lot to handle, isn't she?" He nodded. "Well, that's okay. I'm sure we'll see each other again soon." Bianca gave him a pat on the shoulder before she turned away. "Take care, Blair! And good luck!" She watched him turn and enter the Gym before she turned fully, skipping down the street with a smile on her face.

It was stupid of her to feel so bubbly, she knew. Truth be told, she barely knew Blair. They'd spent time together while guarding the Nacrene City Museum, and they'd spent the entire morning in Castelia together, but . . . that was nothing! It was hardly anything. They were friends, at best — just friends, and it wasn't as if the whole 'friendship' thing was new to Bianca. She'd been friends with Lea and Cheren longer than she could remember.

But with Blair, it was different. Maybe it was because he was so _new_. Bianca had befriended Lea and Cheren so long ago that they felt more like siblings than friends, whereas with Blair, there was still so much she could learn and discover, from his favorite books to his favorite flavor of ice cream. And spending time with him was different, too; if she spent time alone with Lea, she found herself getting dragged around to whatever new adventure Lea had discovered, whereas spending time alone with Cheren usually included watching whatever new science fiction show he was into, or working with him on his latest creation. With Blair, most of their time was spent _talking_, even if they explored new places. Sure, she was the one that did most of the talking, but she could tell that Blair really listened, and everything he _did _say had meaning, even if his nervousness made him take a little bit to say it.

Bianca bit her lip to keep her smile from growing too large as she remembered the way he'd opened up when discussing his favorite books, but had quieted down and listened with rapt attention as she shared her own opinions. He was so _sweet_. She truly did hope she'd have more time to hang out with him before either of them left Castelia City.

By the time she reached the Castelia City cart, it was already four o' clock, and the line in front of it was massive. Bianca scanned the line to look for Lea, but a shout from across the street caught her ears instead. Lea was sitting on a bench, one Castelia Cone in each hand, and Bianca grinned as she hurried over, gratefully taking her Castelia Cone from Lea once she was near enough.

"Oh, thank you! You didn't have to buy one for me, though."

"Are you crazy? Can you see that line? Dude, if I'd waited for you to get here, all of the ice cream would be melted by the time you tried to get one." Lea shook her head, and then looked to the bench next to her, pushing a little pokémon to the side as she did so. "Thing, move over. Make room for Bi."

"Ooh, who is this little one?" Bianca knelt down by the bench in lieu of taking the little creature's seat, which seemed to be just fine with it. Its ears twitched as Bianca approached, and though it had a little cardboard carton of fries that it was munching on, its nose wiggled in the direction of Bianca's ice cream. Lea reached over and lightly tapped the pokémon on the head.

"No, Thing. No ice cream. Eat your fries." To Bianca, Lea said, "That's just Thing, don't let it bother you. Go on, take a seat!"

"I could never be bothered by such a cute little guy, but you and your names . . ." Bianca sat down on the bench, and used her free hand to root around in her bag for her Pokédex. Once she managed to pull it out, she slid it open and pointed it at the little creature, as he made a happy little chirruping sound around a mouth of fry. Her Pokédex _dinged_as it recognized the target.

_**"VICTINI. A legendary pokémon. No current information available."**_

"A _legendary _pokémon?" Bianca gasped, and her head turned toward Lea so quickly her neck popped. "Lea, wherever did you capture him?!"

"I didn't. It just sorta stalks me on its own. 'Sides, I tried to capture it once we got back here, and it just played with the Ultra Ball I tossed at it, so. Bee—tee—dubs, your ice cream is melting everywhere." As Lea said this, she took a large bite out of the remainder of her ice cream, and immediately hissed and winced, putting a hand to her head. Bianca hastily licked up the vanilla trails that were leaking down her cone, though her eyes swiveled back around to Victini, who continued to happily eat the fries out of the carton.

"You can't capture him?" she asked after a moment, and Lea crunched through her cone, speaking around a mouth of it.

"Nope. Dude, watch. It has some kind of freaky psychic power that it uses to keep from being captured." Lea fished an Ultra Ball out of her bag, hit the center button once, and tossed it over to Victini. To Bianca's amazement, a red glow surrounded the Ultra Ball, and Victini — its fries momentarily forgotten — began to bounce the 'ball on its head, looking delighted with its new toy.

"Victini is keeping the Ultra Ball closed . . ." Bianca said in a hushed voice. She paused, and then looked back at Lea. "Why do you keep calling him 'it'?"

"It doesn't have a gender, so it's not a 'him,'" Lea answered, and she reached across Bianca's lap to swipe the Ultra Ball off Victini's head. Victini let out a sad chirp, its ears drooping. "You can have this back when you finish your fries," Lea told it sternly. "You wanted them so badly, you're gonna finish 'em." Victini looked at its fries with a blank look for a moment before a broad grin split its face, and it immediately began digging in again, wrapping its tiny paws around each fry individually. Bianca smiled.

"It's so cute! Where did you find it, even if you didn't catch it?"

"Liberty Tower. I bought a ticket off this scalper in an alley and took a boat ride out there. Besides Thing, there's nothing too interesting out there, so if some dude tries to pressure you into buying a ticket, say no." Lea finished off her ice cream cone and glanced over to Bianca's, which was once again dripping due to her preoccupation with Victini. "Bi, are you gonna finish that, or just let it melt all over your skirt?"

"Huh? Oh!" Bianca once again hastily licked up the melting ice cream, and then grinned at Lea, sticking her tongue between her teeth. "Sorry. Victini is really distracting."

"Yeah, I'll say. It's on its third carton of fries already," Lea groused. "And the only reason I bought those stupid fries is because stupid Thing practically mauled the fry vendor down the street. I had to pry it off the guy's face—and don't you look at me like that, Thing. You know it's true!" Victini made an indignant chirping sound before it went back to munching on its fries, and Bianca continued to clean up her ice cream cone. "But anyway, enough about Thing. What've you done all day?"

"Blair and I explored the city together — well, after we tried completing surveys, anyway. The surveys were boring, but we found a giant bookstore!" Bianca couldn't help the excitement in her voice, even as she saw the interest fade a little in Lea's eyes.

"Oh. Books."

"You would have really liked this store, Lea, I promise," Bianca said earnestly. As Lea gave her a look that plainly said she disagreed, Bianca added, "No, really. They had an enormous section of comic books!" A little bit of interest returned to Lea's eyes.

"Comic books?"

"Yes. New ones and old ones—some of the ones they had there were ones I think you already own, but they had tons! I'll have to show you later." Lea nodded appreciatively, a little smile on her lips.

"Yeah, that'd be pretty kickin'. What else didja see? I haven't seen too much since I got sidetracked on Liberty Garden Island, and then Thing was being annoying, and yadda yadda."

"Hmm . . . well, we saw some street performers. Ooh, and there was this giant toy store, too! There were some guys dancing on a giant piano there, like that scene in that one movie."

"Dude, kickass! I wanna try it!"

"You should! I'll try it with you. Oh, and there was also an arcade, and an art museum! And there's a performance theatre hall that's going to be putting on a stage performance of _The Liepard King _later." Bianca squeezed her ice cream cone a little tighter in excitement, even as she licked up more of the melting mess. "I'm going to go see it. Do you want to come?"

"Hmm . . . _may_be. I dunno if I wanna sit still for that long," Lea said, and Bianca knew Lea well enough to know that a 'maybe' said in that tone of voice, especially with that (very honest) excuse, meant 'no.' "You might be able to get Cheren to go with you, though, even though he ran off like a scalded skitty the second we got here."

"You did, too," Bianca pointed out, though she looked up thoughtfully. "Although, I wonder where he went? He seemed really tense ever since we left Nacrene City."

"Did he?" Lea rubbed at the back of her neck, frowning in thought. "Huh. Maybe. I dunno, I just kinda figured he was like that 'cause he's Cheren, and he's always got his shirt buttons buttoned too tight."

"Well, yes," Bianca said, giggling a little. Lea grinned. "But there was something more than that, too." Lea drummed her fingers on the wooden bench, in clear impatience for Bianca to finish her ice cream so they could leave, and Bianca — sensing this — took a slightly bigger bite of her ice cream than necessary, though not big enough to give herself a brain freeze as Lea had. After a moment, though, she felt something prickling on the back of her neck, and she surreptitiously glanced over her shoulder. "Hey, Lea? Is it just me, or is that guy over there staring at us something fierce?"

"Yeah," Lea sighed. "He's kind of a freak like that. Hey! N!" Bianca couldn't muster up any surprise as Lea shifted to kneeling on the bench to give herself a bit more height, yelling over Bianca's head. "Either knock it off and leave or knock it off and get over here, but either way, knock it off! You look like a gargoyle!"

Bianca turned to look at N properly, watching as he scowled at Lea from his position on the back of another bench a few feet away. Standing up on the back of the bench with more grace than Bianca would have thought possible, N hopped down to the ground and then strode over, his expression stormy. Bianca tried to offer him a smile, but he was too busy scowling at Lea to notice.

"I don't even know what a gargoyle is," he said flatly. Lea rolled her eyes.

"Of course you don't, what else is new? A gargoyle is a statue that comes to life whenever it's nighttime so that it can protect the city it guards from danger. Duh." Bianca laughed a little, though quickly hid it by taking a bite of her cone.

"Actually, Lea, real life gargoyles don't—"

"So a gargoyle is a type of pokémon?" N asked, a frown in his voice as well as on his lips. "It masquerades as a statue before revealing itself at night? But no, that's ridiculous. I know everything about pokémon, and gargoyles are not pokémon."

"Did I ever _say _they were pokémon? Jeez, Mr. Freeze, get your hearing checked." Lea gently took Bianca's wrist, and pulled her hand over so that she could take a bite out of Bianca's Castelia Cone. "Anyway, N, this is my friend Bianca. Bi, this is N. He's a weirdo, but he's pretty chillin' other than that."

"Is "chillin'" good or bad?" N asked, and Lea grinned.

"Good."

"Oh. Okay." N nodded stiffly in Bianca's direction. "Nice to meet you, I guess."

"Nice to meet you, too," Bianca said slowly, feeling uneasy with how cold he seemed toward her. Lea seemed to pick up on it, too.

"Hey. Don't glare at Bianca. If you're gonna glare at her, you can just clear off, 'kay?" N scowled at Lea.

"I'm glaring at both of you. Do you both even realize what you're eating?"

"Um, ice cream?" Bianca tried. N nodded stiffly again and folded his arms, tapping his fingers rapidly against them.

"Yes. Ice cream, which is created from _milk_, which was harvested from an _innocent pokémon_—"

"Oh, not this again," Lea groused, and she put a palm to her face. "Dude, N, seriously, ice cream is delicious—"

"They could have made that by murdering vanillish, and you—"

"Dude, _seriously_?" Lea interrupted, and once again she took Bianca's wrist, holding it up so that N could get a clearer view of the cone. "That's a _waffle cone_. I'm pretty sure it was never ripped out of a vanllish's small intestine. Bi even has a Pokédex, so she can look one up and show you if you want." Bianca looked over at Lea with a questioning look.

"Lea, you have a Pokédex too. Did something happen to yours?"

"I traded it to some kid for his DS Lite, since he had the special _Zelda_ edition and I really wanted to play _Spirit Tracks_." Bianca's expression shifted to one of horror, and Lea hastily added, "Don't tell Juni-baby, okay? She'll flip all the tables in Nuvema Town if you do. And don't tell Cheren, either, 'cause he'll tell Juni-baby first thing. You know he will."

"Okay, but Lea, how could you have . . ." Bianca sighed, and her shoulders slumped. "Never mind. Here, take the rest of this. Talking about vanillish intestines sort of made me lose my appetite." She handed the rest of her ice cream cone to Lea, who took it happily, which was no surprise given that Bianca was pretty sure Lea could talk about intestines all night without ever losing her appetite. Bianca looked over at N. "So, N, are you vegan?"

"Yes," N said shortly. "Unlike some people, I could never live with myself if I ate something that was created at the expense of pokémon suffering—especially at the expense of pokémon _murder_." Lea rolled her eyes.

"It's the circle of life," she said around a mouthful of ice cream cone. "Go see _The Liepard __King _with Bi later if you don't believe me."

"It's different!" N insisted. "Pokémon eat each other in the wild because they _have _to. Humans slaughter pokémon for—"

"Yeah, yeah, whatevs, yadda yadda, don't wanna hear it," Lea interrupted bluntly. N huffed angrily, scowling at her as she wiped residual ice cream off on her shorts. "Look, if you're gonna go from being Captain Unova to Captain Buzzkill, you can just skedaddle. Bi and I are gonna have adventures, right, Bi?" Bianca nodded as Victini, its fries finished, chirruped loudly. "Oh, and Thing, too."

"What sorts of adventures?" N asked, and though his tone was still sulky, Bianca detected a note of curiosity in there. Lea, her moods ever changing, grinned.

"Remember those weird clown dudes we saw on our way over here? I talked to one in line for the Castelia Cones, and he gave me this." She reached into her pocket and pulled out a badly wrinkled piece of paper, which she smoothed out to reveal a flyer. Bianca and N both leaned over, and from her upside down vantage point, Bianca saw that it was a flyer for some sort of contest. "They're holding a city wide scavenger hunt! All we have to do is hunt down those clowns and get some kind of stamp from them or something, and we win."

"What do we win?" Bianca asked. Lea shrugged.

"Dunno. Who cares? The point is, it's a competition, and if there's one thing I don't lose, it's competitions." Lea crumpled up the flyer again and stuffed it back in her pocket, grinning at Bianca and N. "So, you guys in?"

"So long as we're done by about six forty. That's what time the show starts," Bianca said, as she and Lea stood up from the bench. Victini hopped over to float up and sit on Lea's head again, its ears twitching in earnest. Bianca smiled at it as N tapped his foot.

"I suppose I could participate. The clowns should be easy enough to spot." Lea's grin became fierce, and she punched her fist into the opposite palm.

"Hell yeah they will. All righty, dream team, it's go time. Operation: Clown Hunt is _on _like Donkey Kong!" N opened his mouth, and Lea waved him off. "I know, I know, you don't understand that reference. Jeez, remind me to take you to the arcade later, so you can fail a little less at life."

"I do not fail at life," N muttered, as the three of them began walking. As Lea insisted that he did, and went on to list examples of why he did, Bianca smiled.

With so much to do and so much to see, she truly did love Castelia City.


	6. Chapter Six

**TRIGGER WARNING: Aggressive sexual advances/violence, violence, graphic animal (pokémon) cruelty.**

* * *

_"All cities are beautiful, but the beauty is grim."_ -Christopher Morley, _Where the Blue Begins_

**Chapter Six: Dark Side of the City**

* * *

It was strange to return to Castelia City after so many years of being away.

The Shadow Triad was only in Castelia City to trail N and meet briefly with Ghetsis to deliver a status report, but while they were donning their cloaks and were there on business, the familiar streets and buildings hit them with a sense of nostalgia so powerful it threatened to draw them out of their identity-less shells. Castelia was the type of city that was always changing, always evolving; you would never meet the same person twice on a Castelia City street if you didn't already know them, and a store that was open one week would be long gone the next, as if it never existed in the first place. Despite this, the trio could still feel a sense of familiarity, whether they were gazing down at the city from the rooftop of a department store, or slinking along a side street as they watched strangers pass. Castelia City was always changing, always evolving, but it would always be _their _city, no matter how many years passed.

Not all nostalgia was welcome, however, and as the sun cast a pinkish-orange glow against the city skyline and the Shadow Triad rested atop a building, Lucy gazed down at an alley to their left with distaste in her otherwise neutral expression.

"That's where we almost died."

"Lucy." Altair's tone was just as neutral as hers, but she was still able to detect the hint of a warning in it. She lightly hopped up onto the very edge of the building, still staring down at the alley, the hood of her white cloak obscuring her face from his view.

"It's only an observation. I never thought we'd come back here."

"You should have known better. Team Plasma's work covers all of Unova, Castelia City included." Altair wasn't looking at her, instead staring out over the city, his attention focused on the buildings forming a city scape farther in the distance. Desmond, too, was staring straight ahead, standing stock still. He was focusing on keeping mental tabs on N's location, though Lucy could detect a waver in concentration, likely due to the memories shared between them at the mention of the alley. She pulled her eyes away from it.

"You're right. Ghetsis is the one that commands us—not our memories." Lucy hopped off the edge of the building to walk over and stand between Altair and Desmond, trying to sink back into the complete hive mind they had in the presence of others. It was more difficult than usual; not only because of the fact that they were alone, but because of _where _they were, and Lucy couldn't help but feel her mind stray back to that alley—back to days when they were starving, and Altair and Desmond were suffering from disease.

"Lucy," Altair said again, a bit more firmness and exasperation in his tone. Desmond twitched on her other side as Lucy turned her eyes to her brother.

"I can't help it," she said, and like Altair, she let a little more emotion leak into her voice. "You can't tell me you don't feel anything from being here. I _know _you do, Altair. I can feel it."

"Whether I do or not isn't the point," Altair said tightly, and while he'd locked eyes with her briefly, he quickly looked back out to the city. "We have a job to do. We can't do that if we're taking leisurely strolls down memory lane."

"That is cliché," Lucy said, the remark flippant, petulant, and off her tongue before she could stop it. She felt Altair's annoyance spike, and she, too, looked out at the city. "Like I said, I'm trying to remain focused, but it's difficult, especially with Dezzy acting up."

"His agitation will only grow worse the more you keep thinking of the past."

"I know. It's a vicious cycle."

The presence hit them, then, like a fully-grown rhyhorn crashing into their subconscious. The Shadow Triad had no need for cell phones, pagers, or other methods of communication. When Ghetsis needed them, all he had to do was think of them. Their minds, so connected to his, could pick up on his mental signature the second he thought their names. And in that moment, as Altair and Lucy tensed and Desmond jerked a bit in response, they knew exactly where he was, and exactly what he wanted.

"Ghetsis is here," Desmond said, though it was unnecessary for him to speak the words aloud. To an outsider, his voice would have sounded strong—emotionless, even. Lucy and Altair, however, could pick up on the waver.

"We should go," Altair said, and unlike Desmond, his voice was perfectly empty of emotion. Lucy could feel the residual emotion draining out of her, as well, as she let her consciousness and identity bleed over into Altair's and Desmond's. Desmond was still feeling nervous, but as he opened his mind completely to Altair and Lucy so that they could enter a hive mind state, his tension and nervousness melted away.

"Yes," Lucy said, and she took Altair's hand with her left hand, and Desmond's with her right. "Let's."

Had anyone looked up to the top of the building in that moment, they would have seen a very brief flash of bright white light. For the Shadow Triad, after they closed their eyes to briefly concentrate on their power, they felt nothing but a subtle shift in their minds and bodies, the feeling of their awareness slipping from one location to the next. One second later, when they opened their eyes, they found themselves standing in the upper floor of a tall, abandoned office building across from the Castelia City Gym, and when Ghetsis turned to lay his eyes on them, they kneeled before him as one, their heads inclined.

"Ah, the Shadow Triad. I was wondering when you would arrive," Ghetsis said. They knew better than to look him in the eye until bid to do so, and so with their eyes focused on the floor, they chorused:

"Lord Ghetsis. We are glad to see that you are well."

"You may rise."

The Shadow Triad rose to their feet as instructed as Ghetsis took a seat in one of the tall-backed computer chairs, Plasma knights flanking him on either side, clearly wary of going too near the Shadow Triad. Ghetsis' eyes—both his natural eye and his mechanical one—moved over each of the Shadow Triad in turn before he said:

"How is Lord N faring?"

"He is well." Altair, the de facto leader of their group, spoke on behalf of all three of them, his voice perfectly neutral. "Earlier this morning he traveled to Liberty Garden in search of the legendary pokémon, Victini. He discovered it, but was unable to recruit it to our cause."

Ghetsis' expression, which had lit up at the mention of N discovering Victini, darkened. "Why?"

"Victini chose another." This came from Desmond, who managed to keep a steady tone despite the nervousness both of his siblings could feel radiating from him in waves. "A Trainer named Whitlea Fair."

"Whitlea Fair?"

"She's a Trainer from Nuvema Town." This came from Lucy, and she covertly took Desmond's hand in her own, giving it a small squeeze to both ground him, and remind him to stay focused. "She is sixteen years of age and currently trains a pignite and a herdier. She has friends that also hail from Nuvema Town known as Cheren Alabaster and Bianca Black. Further information is currently unknown, but easily obtainable if you desire it, my lord."

"I don't care for some girl's biography." Ghetsis's voice was quiet, but his tone was cold. Lucy squeezed Desmond's hand a little tighter. "The only fact that interests me pertains to the legendary pokémon. Why would it choose her, rather than our King? Surely our King is the Chosen Hero, the reincarnation of the Hero who united Unova with the aid of Zekrom. Surely Victini realized our King as being more worthy of its grace than some brat from Nuvema Town." The Shadow Triad, lacking the information he sought, remained quiet. Ghetsis continued to glare at a spot at the far off wall for a moment more before he shifted his gaze back to them, calculating and cold. "Where is Lord N now?"

"He is currently traveling the streets of Castelia City, with Whitlea Fair," Desmond said, his eyes on the floor rather than Ghetsis' face. "They're partaking in a scavenger hunt." Ghetsis' normal eye narrowed sharply.

"A scavenger hunt?"

"It's a quest offered by city officials to allow tourists the chance to learn the layout of the city better. While that's the purpose of the scavenger hunt, we believe that Lord N is partaking in this activity only to grow closer to Victini and gain its trust," Altair said. Ghetsis eyed him for a solid moment, longer than any of the normal Plasma knights would have been comfortable with.

"How much do you believe that?"

"With utmost certainty, my lord."

Ghetsis continued to stare at Altair for a moment before he rose from his chair, and paced slowly toward a window, his hands clasped behind his back. The Shadow Triad didn't move, except to watch Ghetsis' every moment. Finally, he spoke. "You realize how important our quest is, don't you?" he asked quietly. "How much we have sacrificed and suffer to see our vision come to fruition. How much we must continue to dedicate every second of our lives to this cause."

"Yes, Lord Ghetsis," the Shadow Triad chorused.

"Unova is in chaos. Though it seems peaceful on the surface, it's nothing more than a gilded cover. This nation is as much at war now as it was hundreds of years ago, when the legendary Hero first united it. Human beings are savage creatures. They can't be allowed to be loose, to do as they please. They need a central ruler. A King. A man who can guide this rich nation back to the principles it was originally founded on. That is what we strive for—that is what we must fight so hard to achieve."

"Yes, Lord Ghetsis."

"I have no doubt that N will not stray from his path." Ghetsis began to pace again, his footsteps slow, yet no less imposing. The Shadow Triad continued to watch him, though he didn't look back over at them. "He is wholly dedicated to our quest, as the Hero rightfully should be. Yet as with all noble causes, there are trials. There are those who would stand in our way, and those who could prevent Lord N from accomplishing our noble goal. This country is in chaos. It is at war. And while I have full faith in our King, I'd be a fool to have such faith in the world. Do you understand what I am saying?"

"Yes, Lord Ghetsis."

"I want you to continue to monitor N." Ghetsis finally stopped in front of the Shadow Triad and turned to face them, his gaze flickering to each one in turn. "If anything should happen that would impede his success—from someone directly interfering with him to something that would inconvenience him—I want you to neutralize the threat. Use any means necessary, though be discreet. Bad publicity could ruin Team Plasma as it stands now." He paused, and then smirked. "With your abilities, discretion shouldn't be a problem." The smirk faded, replaced by a hard glare. "Am I understood?"

"Yes, Lord Ghetsis."

He appraised them for a moment before he said quietly, "I saved you from the gutter five years ago in confidence that you would see this quest through to the end. Do not make me regret that decision."

"Yes, Lord Ghetsis." Once again, the answer came as one, though Desmond's voice wavered, nerves jarring him free from the uniformity just enough to be noticeable. Lucy squeezed his hand tightly again, willing him to get it under control, but the damage was done; Ghetsis looked over.

"Control yourself," he snapped, tone short. "If you need to, resume hypnosis therapy. In order to protect our King, you need to be at your best."

"Yes, Lord Ghetsis. My apologies," Desmond said, and though there was still a slight tremor to his voice, his tone was mostly neutral. Ghetsis still didn't seem pleased, but much of the anger faded from his expression.

"Good. See to it that you improve." Ghetsis turned back toward the chair he'd been in before, though he waved one aged hand in their direction. "You're dismissed." Lucy took Altair's hand in her own, and—squeezing both of her brothers' hands—they closed their eyes.

A teleport later, they were back on the roof of the building they'd occupied before.

The second they appeared there, Desmond pulled away, the hive mind link shattering the moment he knew they were alone. He stumbled away from Lucy and dropped to his knees, wrapping his arms around himself. Though he'd pulled away from her, she circled around so that she could kneel in front of him, putting her hands on his shoulders.

"Desmond? Dezzy! Come on, Dezzy, pull yourself together. This is no time for a panic attack."

"Something bad is going to happen," Desmond said quietly, his voice almost a whimper. He looked up so that he could meet Lucy's eyes beneath their hoods, his mismatched eyes focusing wildly on her blue irises. "We're going to have to do something horrible in response to those orders. I-I can feel it, I really can! It's going to happen soon, so soon, so very soon, and—"

"_You _won't have to do anything, Dezzy. If any dirty work needs doing, Altair and I will take care of it." Lucy gently squeezed Desmond's shoulders, for she could feel him trembling beneath her fingertips, shaking worse than he had in ears. Altair walked over to stand beside them, looking down at his siblings.

"Lucy is right, Desmond. You won't need to do anything unless we encounter something we can't handle on our own, and that isn't likely to happen."

"What you two do affects me, too," Desmond said, and though his voice was still shaking, there was a note of firmness there neither could ignore. "We're in this together—we've always been in it together, we'll always _be_in it together, but—but—"

"But nothing," Lucy interrupted. "If we're in it together, we're in it together. You don't have to be afraid of anything, Dezzy. Not as long as you have us. Besides," a shadow of a smile curved her lips, "anything we do is for a noble cause. We need to do whatever we can to see Ghetsis' goals come to life. Even if it's dark, even if it's dirty, the ends justify the means. So long as we stay loyal and true to Ghetsis as well as each other, everything will be just fine."

Desmond looked at Lucy, to Altair, and back to Lucy again. Finally, he swallowed, took a deep breath, and nodded. "Y-Yeah. Okay. Yeah. You're right. Of course. I'm sorry."

"It's all right," Altair said quietly, and he reached down to grasp Desmond's hand, pulling him to his feet. "You don't have to apologize, Desmond. Not to us, especially since you've been doing so well. It's not the end of the world to have a relapse."

"Besides, that's what we're here for: to help," Lucy added. It plainly took effort, but Desmond smiled at both of them, and they smiled faintly in return. "Now, what say we locate our boy king, to ensure that we can eliminate any trouble that comes his way?"

The other two nodded, and once again they disappeared in a burst of white light.

* * *

It was a bit jarring to walk out into the Castelia City night after a few hours spent inside a lush theatre—like waking up after a particularly engrossing dream.

Bianca stretched her arms up over her head as she walked out into the crisp night air. Even though it was a little after eleven p.m., Castelia was still full of life, with bright neon lights casting a glow in the night sky. The other theatre patrons milled out around her, hailing the taxis which sped through the city streets at night, or else heading down the sidewalk. It was odd to Bianca, how the city was still just as bright as it had been during the day, even though it was so late at night. In a way, she almost felt like she could stay up awhile longer, but a spontaneous yawn cut those thoughts short. She was never much of a night person, and the free beds at the Pokémon Center were calling her name.

But while navigating Castelia City hadn't been too much of a problem during the day, in the darkness of night, Bianca felt less confident. Naturally, the city wasn't _truly_ dark, but somehow, the streets still looked different—sounded different, _felt_ different. Bianca wasn't frightened of the dark, or even of getting lost, for while she wouldn't _purposely_ lose her way like Lea, she had enough adventurous spirit and optimism to not panic if she lost her way, and to know that everything would work out all right in the end. However, she _was_ tired, and _did _want to sleep soon, and it was that which had her fiddling through the settings on her C-Gear until she located the GPS navigation feature, and typed in the addresses of both the theatre and the Pokémon Center. After a few moments of calculation, directions flashed across her C-Gear screen, and she smiled as she set off down the street.

As mentioned, Castelia City was still wide awake and busy, despite the late hour. It was for this reason that when a shiver slithered across the back of her neck and down her spine, like someone was watching her, Bianca dismissed the thought as a byproduct of her fatigue. The people around her were far too consumed with their own lives to pay her any mind. She was just a Trainer returning to the Pokémon Center after a play; why would anyone want to pay any attention to _her_?

But the feeling persisted. When she reached the end of the street and rounded the corner her C-Gear told her to, she paused, glancing over her shoulder. She couldn't see anyone around her paying her any attention, but her heart was still beating a little quicker than it should have been, a little instinct niggling at the back of her mind that things weren't as all right as they seemed. Bianca adjusted her bag strap over her shoulder, holding it a bit tighter than necessary. She was just being paranoid, she was sure—there was really nothing to worry about—but she hated feeling nervous all the same.

_There's no need to be nervous,_ she told herself, as she started down the sidewalk and weaved in-between the women wearing short dresses and men wearing unbuttoned club shirts that passed her. _No need to worry! I have my pokémon with me, and no one would follow me, anyway. Everything is perfectly fine._ But even as she told herself this, the feeling of worry continued to thrash and twist in her gut, and although her C-Gear told her that she needed to head down toward 15th Street and cross over, she made an impulse decision to duck down a darkened side street, figuring that anyone who _was _following her would have to identify themselves in the empty space, and face her head-on.

For a few moments, nothing happened. Bianca waited near the entrance to the side street as her C-Gear recalculated new directions, but aside from the sounds of the busy Castelia streets, Bianca heard nothing but her own breathing. She glanced down at her C-Gear as it flashed new directions at her, telling her to follow the side street out to the other side before hanging a right to get back to 15th Street. She wavered for a moment, debating whether or not she should follow the original directions and cause her C-Gear to recalculate _again_, or whether she should follow the new directions it gave her. Ultimately, she decided to follow the new directions, readjusting her bag again as she headed down the side street.

The side street, as mentioned, was dimly lit. The buildings were tall enough to block out the glare from the neon lights which coated the rest of the city, and the only light was from a bulb encased in grimy glass stationed just outside of a restaurant's side door. Bianca moved quickly along it, her bag strap held in an iron grip, keeping it close and her head down as she moved along. Although she'd already decided that no one was following her and she was just being paranoid, the feeling that someone _was _stalking her still wasn't going away, and she felt herself growing more alarmed by the second. Just as she passed the light she sensed movement behind her, and heard the scuff of shoes on concrete. She turned without breaking her stride, and swallowed down a surprised gasp in the back of her throat. There was someone there—someone taller than her, though that was all she could tell in the low lighting—but before she had a chance to react she crashed into someone else. She stumbled back, quickly looking forward again, and the person she'd bumped into grabbed her by her forearms—not roughly, but firmly.

"O-Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean—I wasn't paying attention to where I was . . . going, and . . ." Bianca blinked a few times as her eyes adjusted to the dim light of the side street, taking in the appearance of the person who'd grabbed her. He was taller than her, with a lean build but broad shoulders, and a scruffy face. But while all of that registered in her mind quickly (as well as the fact that he still hadn't released her), what caused her mind to lock up more was the pale blue knight uniform he was wearing, a shield with a 'P' on it emblazoned across his chest.

"Well, well, Cinderella. You really should watch where you're going. It's almost midnight." She struggled to pull free of his grasp, and he released her after a quick look over her head. She turned halfway so that her back was against the wall, her eyes flickering from him to the man who was approaching her from behind.

"You're . . . You're Team Plasma—the Team Plasma knights from the Dreamyard!"

"_Cinderella, dressed in yella, went to kiss a prince. By mistake she kissed a snake—how many doctors will it take_?" the approaching man said in a sing-song voice. His hair was curly and red, but although his lips were curled in a smirk, his eyes were anything but friendly. There was no mistaking him; he was, without a doubt, the temperamental Plasma knight from the Dreamyard, the one that would have attacked her had Wotter not intervened. She wanted to say something in response to his little nursery rhyme—wanted to tell him to stop it, to leave her alone, wanted to scream at them until they both ran off. But she couldn't bring herself to do anything but clamp her mouth shut, her shaking hand quickly diving into her purse to reach for one of her pokémon. But as her fingers quickly brushed aside all of the unnecessary, unorganized items in her bag, the Plasma knight with the red curly hair lifted one arm, pointing the barrel of a gun straight at her face. She froze.

"Uh-uh. Don't think about it, Cinderella. You really think we wouldn't be ready after that little stunt you pulled in the Dreamyard?" He laughed caustically. "Yeah, right. I've been waiting for this. Hands where I can see 'em, princess."

"No, wait," said the scruffy Plasma knight. Bianca looked back over at him, her heart pounding so hard it almost hurt. "Cinderella has something we want, remember? She owes us."

"Oh, yeah." Bianca looked back to the knight with the curly red hair—or more accurately, his gun—pressing herself tightly back against the wall of the building, wishing more than anything that one of the people passing on the main street would take a look down the side road. "You captured that little fuck of a munna we found there, didn't you? We went back to find the mangy thing later and couldn't, so we figured you had it. You do, don't you? Don't lie."

"I . . ." Bianca's voice was a strangled gasp, fear making her throat dry and robbing her of the volume she normally had. "I-I—"

"Answer the question, Cinderella." The Plasma knights were close enough that even she tried to run she wouldn't make it, and the knight with the curly red hair put the barrel of the gun right against her forehead, the metal feeling cool due to the panicked heat running through her body. For all the times she'd seen fear described as cold in books, she could say now that it was anything but. "Do you have the fucking munna or not?"

"I . . ." She shrank back, pulling herself away from the barrel of the gun, and looked out to the main street. People were walking down the sidewalk, blissfully unaware that anything was wrong around them. "H-Help! Somebody, help—!"

The smack was sudden and painful, cracking against her left check and sending her crashing to the ground with a startled yelp. She didn't even know who had hit her, or what with; her cheek and jaw were already throbbing, and before she could pick herself up off the ground to make a run for it, a strong hand secured itself around her left bicep and hauled her back up to her feet, shoving her back against the wall. This time, the barrel of the gun pressed hard enough into her forehead so that she couldn't run away.

"Try that again, and next time I'll paint this wall here with your pretty little brain," the knight with the curly red hair snarled. "You're lucky I didn't just shoot you outright. Coulda shot her outright, couldn't I, Adrian?"

"You coulda, yeah," the other knight, Adrian, said. Bianca looked over at him, tears in her eyes, to see that he was standing with his hands in his pockets, as though nothing was wrong in the world. He caught her gaze, and shrugged. "I toldja things would end badly for you if we met you again, princess. There won't be a pumpkin carriage to come save you this time."

"S-Stop it," she choked out, and she raised one hand to brush her tears away. "I-I'm not Cinderella, I-I'm just—just let me go!"

"Let you go?" The knight with the curly red hair laughed. "Yeah, fat fuckin' chance of that happening. Listen, bitch—'cause if you don't like Cinderella, that's what I'm gonna call ya—you fucked with our shit in the Dreamyard. Because of you, we didn't get that munna. Because of you, we didn't get the Dream Mist. And do you know what happened we returned empty handed? Do you know what happened when _Ghetsis_ found out we were empty handed?" He laughed humorlessly before he struck her again, this time on the other side. Adrian caught her before she hit the ground, and pushed her back up against the wall. "We got fuckin' _flogged_, that's what happened!"

"Hey, Harley, knock it off. You can beat the shit out of her _after _we get what we came for."

"That's _part _of what we came for," Harley spat, but he raised the gun up again regardless, and Bianca winced away from it, unable to stop the tears from slipping down her sore cheeks by this point. "The munna, girlie. If you got it, hand it over. Try and fight, and I'll just blow your brains out and take what you've got anyway."

Bianca wanted to say no. She wanted to say that she hadn't captured the munna, that it had fled or even died before she could heal it. She wanted to say or do a lot of things, but she could tell that he wouldn't believe her if she said no, and her survival instinct was screaming at her to listen and do as he said. A sob escaped her as she reached into her bag, sifting through the items inside until her fingers closed around Munny's pokéball. A wild thought of releasing Munny to fight back flashed through her mind before she squashed it; even if she did release him, Harley would just shoot her before Munny could do anything. She couldn't fight them. There was nothing she could do.

"Good job, princess. Now, hand it over to Adrian, nice and slow." Harley jerked the gun in Adrian's direction, and Bianca—biting her bottom lip hard so that no more sobs could break through—held Munny's pokéball out so Adrian could take it. The second he snatched it out of her hand her arm dropped limply back to her side, and it was everything she could do not to collapse to the ground in a sobbing mess.

"There. Now we've got what was rightfully ours in the first place. Thanks, princess." Adrian put Munny's pokéball in his pocket, and Bianca was almost grateful for the tears that blurred her vision, making it so that she couldn't see him clearly. She knew he had Munny, and she hated herself for it, but at least she wouldn't have to watch with clear eyes. "Harley, we done here?"

"Not yet." Harley moved in front of her, stepping in close so that their waists brushed, even as she pushed herself even tighter back against the wall. He raised one hand to swipe away the tears that still streamed down her cheeks his free hand (his other hand now holding the gun against the side of her head), and when she turned her face away from him, he used his free hand to catch her chin. "Now, now, Cindy, there's no need to cry," he said quietly, tone patronizing. "You could always enjoy this." Without giving her a chance to respond, Harley shifted his free hand so that he was gripping the back of her head instead, and crushed her lips with his own.

Reacting instinctively, Bianca simultaneously pressed herself as tightly as she could against the wall, while moving her hands up to shove at his chest; but the harder she pushed against him, the more forcefully he pressed her against the wall, his tongue aggressively parting her lips to bat against her teeth. It occurred to her, then, that this was her first kiss—pressed against a dirty side street wall, a pokémon abusing, potentially murderous criminal forcing himself on her. That thought—that horrible, sickening thought—pushed her to fight harder, and she picked up her foot and kicked him as hard as she could in his shin.

He pulled away from her, hissing an oath as he sucked in breath, but as she tried to twist and duck around him, he grabbed her arm and dragged her back. She struggled, swinging her bag to smack him in the face, but although the bag connected, he quickly grabbed the strap to yank it away from her, Adrian helping as she tried to tug it back. Adrian managed to pull her bag from her grip, and Harley once again grabbed her, this time wrapping his fingers in the front of her shirt as he shoved her back against the wall.

"No! Let me go!" Her voice cracked as she tried to push her volume up, swallowing to try and wet it so she could attract the attention of the people in the street. "Stop it! You can't do this! You—"

"I can do whatever the hell I want." Harley placed his arm horizontally across her chest, pinning her to the wall, before he lifted the gun back up and put it to her temple. Bianca went rigid, her terrified green eyes meeting his wild brown. "There, see? Keep struggling and you'll make it even worse for yourself. Just sit back and let it happen, Cinderella. You're the one that wanted a wild time before midnight, right?"

"N-No." For all that she'd tried to build up to a true scream before, all she could manage now was a pathetic whimper. "I—I don't—I ne-never . . . please, please don't do this, please stop. I-I'm sorry, I—"

"Shut up." Harley leaned in close, his free hand moving down to the waistband of her skirt, and she could feel his breath against her face. "Wouldn't wanna make a scene, would ya?" She said nothing, her breath hitching in restrained sobs as he leered at her, teeth bared in a triumphant smirk. "That's better." He kissed her forcefully again, and his hand slipped beneath the waistband of her skirt, his calloused fingers moving along the inside of her thigh, and up to finger at her panties.

And that was when something fell from the sky.

That was the only thought Bianca had as something large and heavy dropped between herself and Harley, landing on the arm holding the gun. At the same time that Harley was knocked away from Bianca, his gun arm swung wildly out, his finger squeezing the trigger. A bullet blasted against the brick wall of the restaurant, causing the people in the street nearby to scream and bolt, and both Harley and Adrian to swear. Bianca had been knocked to the ground by whatever fell, but as she twisted around to try and see what happened, she saw not a some_thing_, but a some_one_—a girl, by the looks of her, but it was hard to see with how quickly she moved.

Harley, too, had stumbled back and hit the ground, and it looked as though he'd dropped his gun after firing. Something green jumped from the roof of the restaurant, to the trash cans against the side wall, and down to the ground, and the girl that had landed on Harley whirled to look at it the second it landed. "Kiwi! Dragon Rage!" The green creature—an axew, Bianca realized—opened its mouth and unleashed a blue-white bolt, which destroyed the gun on impact—and it was that which made Harley finally scramble to his feet.

"You little bitch! The fuck do you think you're—?!"

He didn't get a chance to say any more than that. The girl dropped low to the ground and swung her feet out, catching her feet around his ankles and sending him tumbling to the ground again. As she swung her legs around she landed back up on her feet, and as Adrian started toward her, she bent into a handspring and pushed herself into the air, flipping to land both of her feet solidly in his chest. He was knocked flat on his back, and the girl used him as a spring board, twisting through the air to land on her feet again, spinning around to face them as they got to their feet.

"Say what you want, but your gun's toast, and you're getting your butts handed to you by a twelve-year-old girl," she said smugly, fists on her hips. Adrian and Harley glared at her, though Adrian was clearly winded, his chest having taken a rough blow. "I can do this all night if you want to keep the show going, but it's only going to get more embarrassing for you from here on out, right, Kiwi?" The axew by her feet trilled a low note, bobbing its head. The girl raised her eyebrows. "So, what do you say? Want to keep getting your butts whooped, or what?" Adrian looked over at Harley.

"Let's go, man," he said in a low voice. "We got what we came for, and people heard that gunshot. We don't want to draw the cops to Team Plasma." Harley scoffed, his expression radiating distaste at the girl.

"Yeah. For now. We'll remember this." He stormed past her, motioning for Adrian to follow. The girl turned to watch him go, and as they left, she scoffed and pulled a pokéball out of the sash around her waist.

"Bunch of wimps. You did great, Kiwi. Return!" A beam of red light recalled the axew into its pokéball, but as she watched the girl return the axew, Bianca's eyes widened in horror.

"N-No . . . Munny!" She stumbled to her feet, reaching for the strap of her dropped bag as she did so. The girl looked over at her in alarm, and ran over to grab Bianca's arm as she stumbled toward the end of the alley that Harley and Adrian had used to make their exit. "Come back! Munny!"

"Hey, hey, take it easy!" The girl steadied Bianca, whose legs felt more wobbly than a Jenga tower with most of its support gone. "Those guys cleared off—you can't tell me you wanted them to stay, can you? I know I'm not the most experienced with this kind of stuff, but usually romantic dates don't involve guns to the head."

"They . . . They . . . N-No, I—I'm glad they're gone, but they . . . they took . . . !" Her voice broke, and though she'd tried her best to hold them back, full sobs wracked her body, causing her to fall to her knees and wrap her arms around her stomach. Munny was gone. Her little Munny was gone, gone with the very same men who'd beaten him nearly to death in the Dreamyard. And _she_ had handed him over, and _she _had been unable to defend either of them as Harley had . . . as he had . . . !

"Okay, okay, um—okay! Okay, lady?" The girl put a hand on Bianca's shoulder, but Bianca couldn't bring herself to respond. "Lady—Miss Lady, how about you come with me, okay? There's no use in staying here, and I've got a nice room at a hotel not too far from here we can use. It's safe—my friend Burgh paid for it and everything. So how about we go there, okay? Does that sound good?"

Bianca still couldn't bring herself to respond, but she let the girl gently take her by the arm and pull her up, and lead her out of the dark, grimy side street.

* * *

While a large part of Castelia City was active no matter the hour, there were other parts that were noticeably more quiet—namely, the residential districts. For while there were apartment complexes all throughout downtown Castelia, and while the residents of those apartments likely never got any peace and quiet, there were also chunks of the city that were devoted to nicer houses, or small duplexes. There wasn't very much other than people's homes to be found in the residential districts, usually, and thus nothing of interest to attract Trainers with short attention spans, but by the time midnight rolled around that night, Lea and N found themselves wandering down a residential street regardless, hand-in-hand as Victini rode on Lea's hand.

"Dude, I _told_ you that clown wouldn't come down here," Lea said, and she rolled her eyes, her tone one of exaggerated exasperation. "Not unless there's some kind of creepy shed or gutter or something. Clowns _love _to hide in creepy sheds or gutters."

"Really?" N asked, though he sounded more amused than curious. "Why is that?" Lea shrugged.

"Dude, do I look like a clown to you? I have no idea, but they totally do. They hide in gutters or sheds, and then when you get close enough—wham!" She snatched her free hand out into the air, clawing her fingers at the empty space as though trying to grab something. "They just snatch you up and gobble you down. Clowns are seriously the biggest cause of random death in the world. It's just that no one knows about it because it goes unreported because clowns eat all of the witnesses before the story can leak."

Truth be told, N didn't know whether what she was saying was true or not. At the same time, he couldn't really bring himself to care. Whether it was true or not it sounded entertaining enough, and while he couldn't fathom why they should hunt down clowns that would want to attack and eat them, on the quiet residential street, the answer didn't seem to matter so much. "From what you're saying, it sounds like we went the wrong way. If we won't find the clown down this way, why don't we return to the city to search there? We could ask for a clue at the Survey Center."

"I'm pretty sure that survey center place closed hours ago. Seriously, it's pretty much midnight." Lea held her C-Gear up in front of his face as if to prove it to him, and he frowned a little at her.

"If the survey center is closed and we lost the scavenger hunt, why are we still searching?"

"'Cause even if we don't get the prize, I wanna find that stupid clown anyway, just to prove I can. 'Cause seriously, giving up is for chumps and losers."

Though the residential district was set apart from the main city, they weren't completely dark. Darker than streets lit by bright neon lights, yes, but streetlights still gave off a warm orange glow that would light the way for at least small portions of the street, until any pedestrians happened to reach the medium between two lamps, encased in their shadow rather than their glow. It was for this reason that, as they rounded a corner, Lea and N were able to see two figures crouched in the middle of the next street, sitting in the circular glow of one of the streetlights, huddled around something between them.

The two figures were boys—and they couldn't have been much older than Lea herself. They looked normal enough; one was wearing a sports jersey and board shorts, while the other had a button down plaid shirt open over a plain T. The boy in board shorts was picking up something to put on the increasing pile between them—thick books, heavy bricks—while the other was holding up a camera. N's hand went slack around Lea's, and she glanced over to him to see that he was glaring in what looked to be rage at the scene in front of them. Lea looked back, and though it took her a moment, she saw what she thought could be setting him off.

"Is that . . . a _purrloin_?"

It was as if her words set off a trigger. N bolted forward, and though he didn't run, his long, loping strides were quick enough to make up for it. Lea followed, as she got near enough and confirmed what she saw, she actually _did _run, sprinting past him and shouting as she ran:

"Hey! HEY! Douchenozzles! What the Hell do you think you're doing?!"

The boys looked up as she and N neared, and they hastily scrambled to their feet, the boy in board shorts moving to partially block the growing pile from their view. It didn't work; as N reached him he shoved the boy aside, and quickly set to removing the bricks and books off the struggling purrloin at the bottom of the pile, gasping as it tried weakly to meow and failed.

"Hey, I don't know who you are, but this doesn't concern you," the boy in board shorts said, as the boy with the camera tried hastily to shut it off. He didn't make it; Lea snatched the camera from his hands and threw it to the ground, stomping on it for good measure even after it smashed. The boy looked at her with indignation.

"Hey, what the Hell?! That's my camera!"

"And _that's _a purrloin!" Lea pointed a finger furiously at the crushed pokémon lying limply on the ground, as N tossed the last book off it, and gently tried to pick its smashed body up off the concrete. "Who cares about your stupid camera? Were you seriously recording this?"

"Yeah, it's—look, it's just for a video, all right? To put it on ViewTube."

"A _video_?"

"Yeah, pokémon crushing." Lea rounded on the boy in board shorts, who—unlike the boy with the camera—didn't even have the dignity to look awkward or ashamed of himself. "Haven't you heard of it? Newest thing going around—instead of putting 'em in microwaves, you find out how much weight they can stand before it squishes 'em."

Lea stared at him, waiting for the joke to drop, for him to say 'just kidding!' and admit that he was really trying to _save _the purrloin, which had been hurt by Team Plasma, or some other thugs. As the seconds passed and no joke reveal came, she asked, "You're serious right now?"

"Uh, yeah. Why else would I catch the stupid thing?" He scoffed as Victini hopped down from Lea's head, hopping over to put its paw against the purrloin's crushed spine. "I wouldn't train a weakling like that if you paid me."

Lea stared at him. "You're a _Trainer_? Like, you have a License and everything? No. No way. You can't—there's no way some sicko loser like _you _has a Trainer license! No Trainer would actually hurt a pokémon like this!"

"Two just did." N stood up, his fists clenched by his legs, and he turned to face the boy in the board shorts. "You murdered this purrloin. You crushed its spine and fractured its ribs for no reason other than your own sick amusement."

"No, I did it for the ViewTube views, really," the boy said, and he laughed a little. "You'd be surprised how many views something like this can get—subscribers, too. People eat this shit u—hey!"

The boy stumbled back as N took a few steps forward, reminding Lea of a liepard moving in for the strike. The boy held up his hands, taking several steps back as N advanced, his buddy walking over to stand by his side, as though that would inspire N to back off. It didn't.

"Look, bro, it's not that big of a deal. It's just a stupid purrloin. There are thousands of them out in the wild—"

"That purrloin can never be replaced!" N's voice was practically a roar, a guttural snarl that came from deep in his chest. "It was one-of-a-kind—an individual! A person worth protecting, far more than trash like you!"

"What the Hell does that mean? Who are you calling trash?!"

"Who does it look like?!"

"Bro, maybe we should get out of here," the boy who formerly held the camera said, nudging his friend in the shoulder. His friend was continuing to stare N down, though N was shaking so badly that maintaining eye contact had to be difficult. "This guy looks unhinged and I kinda don't want to be around when he decides to blow."

"I don't what 'decides to blow' means," N said, and though this was said much more quietly, his voice was still a growl, "but fleeing would be a good idea." The two boys looked at each other before the boy in the board shorts nodded, and they both turned and bolted, heading for the shadowy space between two houses. Though he was the one that told them to run, N didn't seem inclined to give them the chance; the second they turned and fled he followed, like a houndour spurred to the chase.

"N!" Lea shouted, and she ran a few steps after him before she slowed to a stop, watching him dart between the houses after the boys. Part of her was inclined to go after him, but a larger part—the dominant part—pulled her back, and forced her to look back to the purrloin.

N had cleared the bricks and books off the small feline, which honestly didn't look to be much older than a kitten. Lea walked back over to it and knelt down, Victini hopping aside as she did so. For the first time all day, the legendary imp didn't look cheerful or excited; instead, its orange ears were laid back, its blue eyes big and sorrowful.

But Lea couldn't really look at Victini at all.

Instead, her eyes were riveted on the purrloin. Due to the weight loaded onto its back, its spine was completely crushed, flattened down into its ribcage and stomach. Its ribs had protruded out from its stomach and sides, leaking blood that oozed onto the concrete, thick, sticky, and dark. The purrloin wasn't breathing anymore, and though its eyes were open, they were glassy and unfocused. Though it had looked alive when N first dug it out of the pile, it clearly wasn't any longer. Maybe it had even died in his hands.

Without warning, Lea turned and retched, heaving over the concrete. Nothing came up but the barest traces of stomach bile, but she gagged anyway, the entire situation overwhelming her to the point that it was the only reaction she could process. It wasn't until her dry heaves started to subside that she realized she was shaking, trembling so badly that her teeth were chattering in her skull. And though she didn't want to, she forced herself to turn back to the crushed purrloin.

She had to do something for it, but she couldn't even begin to figure out what.

* * *

It didn't take N long to catch up to the running boys. They fled between the houses and cut across a backyard, ducking into another small alley, but there were two things they hadn't counted on:

One, with longer legs and pure rage fueling him, N was faster than they were.

Two, running in blind fear didn't give them time to map out their course, and as a result they ended up reaching a dead end.

It was dark in the alley they'd chosen, away from any street lights, with only the moon to cast pale light that only served to create more shadows. There were houses on either side of them with sleeping occupants inside, but as the boys turned to face N, they didn't seem to be able to bring themselves to scream. As N approached, they backed up so that they were against the wall, before the boy in board shorts straightened.

"Look, bro, we outnumber you two to one, so—"

"I am not your brother," N growled, and the boy in board shorts shut his mouth. N's fingers were curled into fists so tight his nails cut into his palm, and he was finding it hard to breathe in anything other than quick, short gasps. He'd been angry before—any time he thought about the cruelty pokémon suffered at the hands of humans he grew angry—but it was nothing like this. He'd never felt anything like this. He was angry, yes—enraged, even. But although his anger had always made him feel nauseated in the past, now it only made him feel stronger. "And you loathsome humans will _pay for what you've done_."

"How?" the boy in board shorts asked, and though his friend put a hand on his arm, he shrugged him off. "No, I wanna know. How are you gonna make us pay, bro? There's two of us and one of you, and for all you talk about us humans being all 'loathsome,'" he made the air quotes, "you're just as human as we are."

"I'm a king," N said coldly, and the boy in board shorts laughed and took a few steps forward.

"Really? Then show me what a king can do, tough guy." He reached out and shoved N in the chest, causing N to stumble back a few steps. "Show me how you're gonna make me _pay _for what I did to that mangy cat."

The shove was one thing. The slight on the murdered purrloin was another. N had never been in a fight before, and as such didn't have any practical experience, but he'd watched enough television in Nacrene City to know what to do. Keeping his fingers curled in a fist, N drew his arm back, and slammed his entire weight via his fist into the boy's face.

The boy was knocked to the ground, his lip crushed against his bottom teeth and split open with a splash of blood. The second he hit the ground N pounced, throwing himself on top and drawing his fist back to strike again. The boy thrashed underneath him, bringing one arm up to slam his fist into the side of N's head. N was tossed to the side and the boy scrambled up, tackling him against the grass. N brought his legs up and kicked, sending them both tumbling over the grass. The second N had him pinned again, he lurched down and sank his teeth into the boy's shoulder.

As the two of them fought, they were too engrossed in each other to realize what happened to the third person in the alley. As the former owner of the camera moved to help his friend, a shadow descended from the rooftop, utterly silent and unnoticeable in the darkened alley; at the very least, the camera-less boy never saw it coming. The shadow dropped right behind him, and with a hand over the boy's mouth, a knife was sliced swiftly across the front of his throat. The flesh opened with a burst of blood, gushing both out of the wound a little out of his mouth. Though he gurgled and thrashed for a few seconds he quickly stilled, and was dropped limply back down to the grass, the shadow returning to the rooftop.

And still, neither N nor the boy in board shorts noticed. The boy kicked N off him, swearing loudly due to the bite in his shoulder. N rolled onto his feet, and as the boy rushed him again, he raised one arm to rake his nails across the boy's face. It proved ineffective. The boy reached forward and grabbed N's long hair, yanking him forward and onto the ground, straddling him the second he was on the grass and pulling back a fist, his other hand going for N's throat. N grabbed the boy's wrist with one hand, and bucked his hips to throw the boy off him. Once again they rolled apart, the boy rolling to the back of the alley while N moved toward the entrance, but as N rolled back up onto his feet, he froze, largely in part due to the blood that splashed on his shirt.

All of the rage, all of the hatred that he felt for the humans was pushed aside in that moment—perhaps _only _for that moment, but for the moment nonetheless. It looked like the boy was standing, for he was on his feet, and there was no one that N could see behind him. But although he was standing, his throat was completely split open, blood bubbling out like a fresh water spring. He dropped suddenly, crumpling to the grass, and it was then that N noticed the other boy was lying just as brokenly behind him.

For a tense moment, N didn't know what to do. Slowly, he walked over to them, kneeling by the boy with board shorts and poking his shoulder. The boy didn't move. His body was still warm, but blood was pooling in the grass around his cut throat, and when N—shock and morbid curiosity motivating him more than anything—poked at the boy's throat, he only ended up with blood on his hand.

The boy was dead. Both boys were dead. N had no idea how it happened, but he did know that he didn't feel the least bit sorry.

But whether he was sorry or not, a bright light flickered on in the window of the house on his left. The shouts and sounds of their scuffle had awakened the people living in the homes nearby, and while he didn't feel sorry at all for what happened—didn't feel sorry for somehow killing the humans, though he had no idea how he did it—he knew enough about human society to know that being caught in the act was a bad idea. With that thought in mind, N turned and ran, bolting to the exit of the alley and sprinting across the adjoining lawn.

Unbeknownst to him, there was no reason for him to flee. Although the humans in the homes _would _have called the police had they discovered him by two bloodied corpses, as soon as he exited the alley, the shadows dropped again—two of them, this time, each one grabbing a body before they disappeared in a flash of bright white light. Lucy and Altair, two members of the Shadow Triad, returned the top of a grocery store in the residential district, hidden behind the roof's entrance, corpses in tow. Desmond stared at the bodies in dismay.

"We had to kill them. We had to _kill them_. I knew this was going to happen—I knew something bad was going to happen. Didn't I say something bad was going to happen? I did. And look what happened. We had to kill them."

"Dezzy—" Lucy tried, but Desmond spoke over her.

"I _hate _killing. I hate it, I hate it, I—it reminds me of back then, you know? Every time. Every time we have to kill it just makes me think of back then, of that night, in our old house, with Mom and Da—"

"Desmond!" Lucy's snap was enough to make Desmond shut his mouth, bowing his head low as he took steadying breaths. Rather than reprimand his siblings, Altair pulled bundled up sacks from the inside pocket of his cloak, and handed them to Desmond.

"Hold these open and steady while Lucy and I move the bodies inside. After this, we'll dispose of them in the ocean."

"We should take them as far out to the middle as we can," Lucy said, as Desmond unwillingly held the sacks open with his telekinetic ability so she and Altair could fit the corpses inside. "So that way—"

"—it'll make it harder for them to wash ashore and be discovered by the authorities. I know." With the bodies in the bag, Desmond quickly—and sloppily—used his ability to tie knots in the top before he let them fall back down to the roof, wrapping his arms around his middle.

"I hate this," he whimpered. "I hate it, I hate it, I hate it. Isn't there something else we could do for Ghetsis? Some other way to repay him? Some other way to use our powers to help him without doing _this_?"

"Obviously not, or else he wouldn't have us do it," Lucy said curtly. "Dezzy, think about it for a minute. Who else could have protected N back there? Who else could have killed these guys without being seen?"

"I—"

"No one, that's who. We do what we have to because it's our job, and because we're the only ones who can. That's why Ghetsis needs us. That's why he saved us." Desmond gave her a stricken look.

"So we could _kill _people?" She met his gaze solidly before she looked away, back to the bodies in the bag.

"Apparently so."

"We don't have time to argue about this," Altair cut in, before Desmond could make any sort of reply. Both of them looked to him as he picked up one of the bodies, slinging it over his shoulder. "The long we take to dispose of the bodies, the longer N goes without our guard. We have to get back to him in case something like this happens again. We already let him sustain injury once; I'm not keen on the idea of letting it happen again."

"Ghetsis will be angry if he finds out N got hurt," Desmond said quietly. Using her own telekinetic ability, Lucy lifted the other body to her, placing her hands upon it though she used her mind to keep it in the air.

"Then we won't let him find out," she said quietly, and the three of them disappeared in flashes of white light.

* * *

Bianca turned the shower tap off, the scalding water receding to cold before it shut off completely.

The hotel's bathroom was nice. It was lit with bright lights, and the standalone shower had swinging glass doors rather than a regular curtain. The towels were white and fluffy, softer to the touch than any other towels Bianca had ever used, and the complimentary soaps and shampoos came in a variety of scents. The bathroom was spacious, too, affording her plenty of room as she stepped out of the shower, and scrubbed the towel down herself to dry the water as best as she could.

As nice as the bathroom was, it gave her little comfort.

She'd stayed in the shower far longer than necessary, scrubbing her skin down, thankful that the hot water didn't run out. It was stupid of her, she knew; she was clean the first scrub down, and while she knew that it was typical for people to feel dirty after—after things like _that_, nothing had even really happened. She was overreacting. Being stupid.

As she pulled a clean shirt out of her travel bag and pulled it on, she felt her lower lip tremble. It was far from the only stupid thing she'd done that night.

Swallowing, Bianca forced herself to take a deep breath, and after pulling on a pair of sweatpants, rummaged around in her bag for her toothbrush and toothpaste. She'd already brushed her teeth once before the shower, but considering . . . well, considering everything, she figured a second or third time couldn't hurt, especially since the first time her hands were shaking so badly most of the toothpaste ended up in the sink instead of on her toothbrush. Once her brushing was completed (which was only after she scrubbed her mouth out enough to make her tongue a bit sore and toothpaste foam around her lips), she put her toothbrush and toothpaste away and took a look at herself in the mirror.

Her eyes were still a little red and puffy from crying, and her hair was still damp and limp from the shower. She didn't _look _any different, as far as she could tell—or at the very least, she didn't think anyone should notice a difference—but she felt . . . She almost wanted to jump in the shower again, so she could scrub her face down, too—try to wash away what she saw. She didn't know what it was, but as she leaned across the polished counter to put her face right before the glass, staring into her own green eyes, she knew she didn't like it. Whatever it was that was in her face, she didn't like it for a minute. But she didn't know how much scrubbing could make it go away.

_It probably can't. I can't fix anything, just like I couldn't protect Munny._

Tears strung her eyes and she pressed her palms against them, taking deep breaths to try and urge the tears away. Once she was certain that she had it under control, she picked up her bag, shut off the light, and made her way out of the bedroom.

The hotel room itself wasn't that large. There was a desk against the wall by the door, complete with a lamp, a coffee pot, and a phone. A television stand with an old television was at the foot of the bed, which was queen-size and covered with a floral print comforter. Sitting on the bed watching television was the girl who was currently staying in the hotel room, her axew curled up by her feet. It was the first real look Bianca had at her rescuer, for immediately after everything in the alley had occurred, she'd been too distraught to pay much attention. The girl's skin was the color of warm milk chocolate, and though Bianca could vaguely remember hearing her say she was twelve, it was never more obvious than watching her curled up in the middle of the bed, her petite frame hidden by large, billowing cream colored sleeves, and bushy black hair that—tied back as it was—almost looked bigger than her entire body. The girl turned to look at Bianca as she exited the bathroom, and her full lips split into a smile, her reddish-brown eyes lighting up.

"There you are! Feeling better?" Bianca forced a shaky smile.

"Y-Yes. I'm fine. Thank you, um . . ." She faltered, her smile fading to a frown. "I'm so sorry, I don't think I ever caught your name . . ."

"Don't worry, lady. I never introduced myself to begin with." The girl was still smiling as her axew picked his head up. "My name's Iris de Nadder, from Opelucid City! How about you?"

"Bianca Black, from Nuvema Town." Bianca shouldered her bag, continuing to stand awkwardly by the bathroom door, before Iris patted the space next to her on the bed.

"Come over and sit down, there's plenty of room. Me and Kiwi are just watching _The Steel Samurai_."

"My friend Lea loves that show." At the thought of Lea, Bianca's lip trembled again, and she quickly shook her head. "I—I should probably go, though. I don't want to impose on you anymore, and—"

"Impose?" Iris laughed. "What kind of phrase is that? I invited you back here because I wanted to help, and I'm inviting you to sit over here because you look like you're about to faint, and I think it'll be fun to watch TV together. So come on—come over."

"I—I'm not going to faint—"

"Your knees are shaking." Iris nodded down at Bianca's legs, and though it made her feel silly a moment later, Bianca looked down. "Come on, Bianca, just come over here. You're not 'imposing' or anything, I promise."

There was really nothing for it. Bianca didn't like being rude or making people unhappy ordinarily, but with the way she was feeling—and especially considering all that Iris had done for her—she didn't feel as if there was a way she could say no. She walked over to the bed and sat on the edge, putting her bag against the pillows, but Iris reached over and grabbed her arm, tugging her over to the middle.

"C'mon, c'mon! Don't sit on the edge like an awkward turtwig." Once Bianca was situated in the middle, Iris grinned. "There! Much better."

"Y-Yes." Bianca looked down at her hands, twisting her fingers together over her sweatpants, trying to think of a way to thank Iris for all that she'd done. Before she had a chance though, Iris was speaking again, and Bianca hastily took her mind of her own thoughts to pay attention.

"So, why don't you tell me how you're really feeling?"

"Huh? O-Oh, well, I'm—I'm fine, really. Everything's fine!"

Iris twisted her lips in an odd half-smile, half-frown. "In my hometown, there's a legend that says that in ancient times, they made liars swallow a thousand needles. I don't have a thousand needles here, but it sounds like you're lying to me."

"I-I'm not! I'm not a liar!" Iris raised an eyebrow at her, and Bianca squeezed her fingers. "I'm not! I'm really not, I always try not to lie . . ."

"But it's pretty obvious you're not fine," Iris said, and Bianca looked back down at her lap. "Look, lady, I don't blame you. By the time I got there after hearing you scream, that gross guy was all over you. It seemed like a pretty scary experience. And you said something about them taking your money, too—"

"Munny," Bianca corrected, before Iris could finish her sentence. She couldn't help it; tears started to sting at her eyes again. "Munny, my—my munna. They stole my munna."

"Oh. I'm so sorry." Iris did, to her credit, look genuinely sympathetic. "But see, that's what I'm talking about. It's no wonder you're all shaky. You're _not _fine."

"Well, what am I supposed to do?" Bianca asked, and she struggled to keep her voice from going shrill, afraid she'd break into hysterics again. "Crying won't help, and . . . and there's nothing else I can do. I want to save Munny, but how could I? I couldn't even save myself. I couldn't beat them, because I'm so weak . . ."

"Hey, that's not true." Iris reached over to pat Bianca on her knee. "You could beat them. You're not weak." Bianca shook her head, and swiped a few stray tears away.

"Yes, I am. I couldn't do anything at all to stop them. I tried to fight back—I did!—but I . . . I couldn't . . ." She wiped a few more tears away. "If Lea or Cheren were in my place, they could have defended themselves. They're so much stronger than me. And you, too—you fought them off easily, and you're _twelve_."

"I'm also a dragon princess that has been training since I was five," Iris said, and though Bianca didn't know how much validity the title "dragon princess" held, the fact that Iris had been training for seven years did catch her attention. "You look like a newbie, no offense. There's a big difference between you and me." Bianca looked back down at her hands.

"I know," she said quietly. "You're so strong, and talented, and smart, and I'm . . . I'm not any of those things."

"Yes, you are!" Iris tossed her hands into the air. "Look, I only just met you, but just because some guy put a gun to your head, and stole your pokémon, and did stuff doesn't mean you're weak or anything like that. It was just a bad situation, and that was a bad guy. But with a little bit of training, I think you could be ready to take on situations like that next time. And who knows? If you train up, maybe you can even save your munna!"

"Training?" Bianca looked up at Iris, who nodded brightly. "You'll help me train my pokémon? I still have a dewott and herdier . . ." Iris shook her head, her grin becoming more sly.

"I'm not talking about training your pokémon, lady. Having strong pokémon is one thing, but you can't always rely on them to fight for you—you have to fight _with them_. Slip on your shoes and come with me; we're going to go on a little adventure."

Bianca didn't really feel up to tackling an adventure, especially given the late hour and how tired she was, but her curiosity got the better of her, and it didn't seem as though Iris was willing to take no for an answer anyway. As such, she put on her shoes and let Iris drag her from the hotel, only tugging back when they exited the hotel lobby so that she could release Toto from his pokéball.

"Just in case," she told Iris, when the girl raised a questioning eyebrow. "I'll just feel so much safer if he's out with us right now." Iris shrugged, and took Bianca's hand again.

"Suit yourself. Come on, come on!"

So it happened that Bianca let Iris drag her halfway across Castelia City, Kiwi riding on Iris' head while Toto trotted along by Bianca's feet. Iris, as it turned out, seemed not to have a care in the world for crosswalk signs or oncoming traffic; despite how Bianca tried to warn her about approaching vehicles or people that were in the way, Iris barreled across streets and through crowds as though she didn't see them. Bianca tried to shout apologies, but it was hard at the speed Iris was moving, and they didn't stop until they reached the pier on the east side of Castelia City, near the gate that led to the Skyarrow Bridge. Even then, Iris pulled her across the pier and down some steps near the end of it, toward a little platform that held a heavy metal door.

"Where does this lead?" Bianca asked, a bit breathless due to the running, but also a bit apprehensive. Iris wrenched open the door before looking over at her.

"The sewers." Something must have shown in Bianca's face, for Iris added, "I know it sounds nasty, and they kind of are nasty, but they're perfect for training since no one ever goes down there. Plus, there are these ruins down there, which is where we'll _actually _be training anyways. Come on!"

Against her better judgment (because she truthfully didn't know Iris that well, and venturing into a sewer wasn't high on her list of favorite activities) Bianca followed her down, holding on to the grimy side rail as she walked down the rusted metal steps. The stench of the sewer was sour and made Bianca wrinkle her nose, breathing through her mouth to try and not inhale as much of the stench as possible. It was dark, nearly impossible to see save for little maintenance lights strung up along the ceiling. As they walked along the metal pathways, rattata darted by their feet, and further in the sewer Bianca could hear squeaks from zubat ricocheting off the walls.

"Yeah, there are tons of zubat in here," Iris said, noticing the squeaks as well. "Zubat and rattata combined. It can get pretty annoying the deeper you go in, but luckily, we don't have to go in deep at all! Come over here!"

Once again taking Bianca's hand, Iris pulled her toward an opening in the right-hand wall, tugging Bianca through to a space where the floor switched from metal to dusty rock. The smell of the sewer was lesser in this new area, and as Iris led her through the cavern, it grew much easier to breathe. When they finally reached an open space where the air was mostly clear of fallen rocks, Iris turned to face her.

"Okay, before we go any further, there's something I have to make sure of."

"What is it?"

"Do you want to get your munna back?" Bianca opened her mouth, but Iris cut her off. "I mean by yourself. Do you want to go find your munna, and save it yourself?"

"I . . ."

"Because I'll give you a crash course on everything I was ever taught so you can kick some serious bad guy butt, _but_ you have to _really _want to learn it. You're a newbie right now, but that can be helped; I can't help you if you think you're just weak and worthless." The look Iris was giving Bianca was nothing short of a serious, and was a drastic change from the bright, childish grin she'd sported before. "So, what do you say?"

Bianca considered it for a moment before she took a deep breath. "I think I _am_ weak, _because _I don't know how to defend myself. But I want to grow stronger—I want to learn how to defend myself and my pokémon, so I can save Munny. Please teach me, Iris."

"I can teach you how to defend yourself, but I can't teach you how to be stronger. That comes from in here." Iris patted her chest, over her heart, and smiled. "That's what Grandpa always says, anyway. I think it's cheesy, but Grandpa can be a pretty cheesy guy when he's not being all 'roar, I'm a Gym Leader,' so it's to be expected. Plus, it's true, anyways. But all right! I'll teach you how to defend yourself, and then you can build your confidence back, and get stronger the rest of your way on your own. So, let's get started!"

"Okay." Bianca managed a smile, her heart starting to beat a little faster out of nerves. "So, um . . . what are we practicing?"

"I'm going to teach you the ancient art of butt whoop," Iris said, grinning boldly as she reached over to take Bianca's bag from her and set it by a nearby rock. "And to do that, first we're going to have to work on your stance. Now, the important thing to remember is, since you're a lady, your center of gravity is located down low, in your hips and legs. So . . ."

* * *

There was nothing more that could be done for the purrloin—no way to save it—and as a result, Lea decided that if she was going to do anything for it, it would have to be a burial.

It was for that reason that by the time N returned to the street, she was wrapping the purrloin up in a spare hoodie, buttoning it so that she wouldn't accidentally drop the feline as she carried it somewhere to dig a grave (where, she had no idea, but as with everything else, Lea figured she'd figure it out as she went along). She looked up as N walked back over to her, and the first thing she noticed was the blood on his shirt and hands.

"Dude, what the Hell," she asked, and when he only continued to stare at her, she clarified, "Dude, what the Hell did you _do_? Is that _blood_? 'Cause if it's not blood, then it's food coloring that looks like blood, and if it's food coloring then I really have to wonder why you decided to party it up with some Easy Bake when you seemed so pissed at those guys earlier."

"It's not food coloring." N's voice was flat, and Lea stood up, holding the purrloin to her chest as adrenaline started to pump through her veins.

"Okay, so it's not food coloring. It's blood. Whose blood is it?" N didn't answer, and Lea—adrenaline and panic making her impatient—demanded, "N, what the Hell happened with those two jerkweeds that were here before?"

N was quiet for a moment before he finally said, "I made them sorry."

"What does that mean? What, did you kill them or something?" It was a half-joke, something Lea thought was clear when she forced a laugh into her voice, but he didn't smile or laugh. And seeing that he wasn't denying what she said, nor was he laughing, Lea felt her stomach drop. "Holy mother of Mew under a truck, are you joking me? Are you fucking kidding me right now? Did you _actually_ kill them? Like, for serious kill them?" Again, he didn't respond, and Lea felt herself lose it. "What the _actual fuck_, N?!"

"It was an accident," he said tightly, but Lea—her mind jumping from zero to hysterics faster than she could process it—spoke over him.

"An _accident_? How do you _accidentally_ murder someone? 'Oh, I'm sorry officer, I just _accidentally_ picked up this knife and just _accidentally _shanked this bitch fifty trillion times—"

"I didn't use a knife, and I'm not familiar with the term 'shanked'—"

"Oh, don't even try and play that 'oh, look at me, I'm Mr. Sweet Innocent Captain Unova' card with me right now. You _murdered_ someone! You straight up _murdered _some people—"

"I didn't mean to! I don't know how it happened! And even if I did, what does it matter?" N was finally starting to match her volume, which in the back of her mind, she realized was far too loud for a residential street. But as he posed that question to her she felt her mind lock, and she stared at him incredulously.

"Excuse me?"

"They were monsters," N said, and it was then that she realized he was shaking, too. "They murdered that purrloin in cold blood—they _tortured _it to death. I didn't mean for them to die, but whatever happened to them, they deserved what they got."

Lea opened her mouth to respond, but—unable to think of anything to say for what was quite possibly the first time in her life—shut it again with a huff of a laugh. "Wow."

"What?"

"I just—do you really think it's okay that you just killed some people? 'Cause I don't know what planet you hail from, Spock, but that's not okay. No matter how big of dickweeds people are, you can't just _kill_ them. You arrest them, and send them to jail, or something like that, but you don't just _murder people _because they're assholes. If that was the case, we'd have a lot less people in the world 'cause everyone would be murdering everyone else."

"But it's all right to murder an innocent purrloin?" he demanded, and Lea glared at him.

"I never said that."

"You're defending what they did. You're saying it's wrong that they're dead."

"I'm not—"

"What would the law do?" N began to pace, drumming his fingers against his legs, looking agitated and irate. "People murder pokémon every day. They torture and maim them. And what consequences do they face? None! People continue to capture and make pokémon suffer, and it's celebrated! Human beings glorify pokémon suffering and treat it as a sport!"

"Are you on _drugs_? No one treats pokémon suffering like it's a sport!" Lea said, and he scoffed. "No, seriously, I know sports, and that's not one of 'em."

"Then what do you call battling, hm?" N demanded. "What do you call participating in region-wide tournaments? It's a sport, and pokémon suffer for it." Lea rolled her eyes.

"Newsflash, bucky brown: pokémon _like _battling."

"Oh, really? Did they tell you that?"

"Uh, no. Pokémon can't talk."

Once again, N scoffed derisively in the back of his throat. "No, they can. Human beings are just too corrupt to hear them."

"Right," Lea shot back sarcastically, "and I guess you're just a special, delightful little snowbunny that can hear them just fine." He glared at her.

"Actually, yes. I am."

"Right, well, you know what else you are?" Lea didn't give him a chance to respond. "A murderer. You're a freaking _murderer_ that just killed _two people_. And you know what happens to murderers? They get arrested, and they go to jail, and they never see the light of day again because they're _murderers_. And that's _exactly _what's going to happen to you if you get caught." N snorted.

"I'm not concerned. The police could never touch me."

"Actually, since this is murder, I'm pretty sure the closest Gym Leader would have to handle it, which in this case would be that weirdo, Burgh." Lea raised an eyebrow. "But what makes you think he couldn't do anything? You might think you're a special, delightful snowflake, but the rest of the world will just see you as Crazypants McGee and toss you in the slammer so fast your minty hair'll all fall off."

"They can't touch me because I am a king," N said, and Lea tossed up one hand, turning away. "Kings are above the law."

"Right. You're a king. You know, I really shouldn't even be surprised, 'cause you seriously took one flight over the cucco's nest a long time ago and just never even thought of coming back." She turned back to look at him, and pointed one finger at his chest. "You are Crazypants McGee, that's who you are."

"I _am _a king," he insisted. She lifted one hand in mock surrender.

"Yeah. Right. Whatever. Listen, _your highness_, as much as I'd love to sit here and hear all about your cotton candy rainbows and whatever other things happen in Crazypants Land, I'm kinda holding a dead purrloin in my arms." His eyes snapped to the bundle that was her hoodie and the purrloin's corpse, but she didn't give him a chance to react other than that. "So I'm gonna go to that twenty-four hour convenience store we passed by earlier, get a box and a shovel, and then I'm gonna go find some dirt and grass and bury it. And after _that_ I'm getting that Hell out of dodge, 'cause I know that you murdered those guys, which I'm pretty sure in Cheren-speak would mean I'm an accomplice, which would mean that if you get to jail, I'm _also _going to jail, and I'm way too awesome to waste away in a jail cell. So, it's been real—and by real I mean real crazy—but I'm gonna leave. Thing, let's bounce." Victini, which had been staring blankly at the pair of them up until that point, grinned brightly and bounced up to sit on Lea's head again. After nodding curtly to N, Lea turned and started to stomp down the street.

To her surprise, he followed.

"Why are you following me?" she demanded flatly, though she didn't break her stride. She didn't have to; he matched her pace easily, his hands in his pockets.

"Why are you burying the purrloin?" he asked. She gave him a weird look.

"Whaddya mean, 'why'?"

"What's the purpose? Are you burying it to forget it, like a herdier would a bone?" If anything, N's clarification only made the look Lea was giving him even stranger.

"Uh, no. I'm burying it 'cause that's what you do when things die. You bury 'em, and give 'em a proper send-off and stuff. That's what me and my parents did for Chow-Chow."

"Chow-Chow?"

"My mom's arcanine. He got the Big C and died when I was, like, twelve." She noticed N was giving her a questioning look and added, "Cancer." He still looked confused, but she wasn't in the mood to describe what cancer was, and so she let it drop. N, however, didn't seem to be inclined.

"What caused his . . . cancer?"

"Nothing _caused _it. Cancer kinda just happens. And anyway, Chow-Chow was pretty old. Mom had caught him when she was fifteen, so." Lea gave N a sidelong look. "What, didja think we abused him or something?" N's face hardened.

"It was a possibility."

Lea had figured that he would say that, but the flare of anger she suddenly felt was still stronger than she anticipated, and she stopped. "Why are you even following me, anyway? Don't you want to get as far away from me as possible, since I'm one of the super terrible humans you hate so much? Seriously, N, just screw off. Go somewhere and get bent."

N stopped, as well, and turned to face her with a hard look. "You want to pay respects to that purrloin, don't you? That is what you said, isn't it?"

"Yeah? What of it?"

"Then I want to help." His answer was immediate, and caught her off-guard. "This isn't about you, it's about the purrloin. It was brutally murdered, and I want to do right by it."

Lea held his gaze for a minute before she turned away, and resumed walking down the street, her pace brisk and tense. "Whatever. Do what you want. But I swear to Arceus if you accuse me or anyone I love of abusing pokémon again, I'm gonna punch you in the throat."

"It's a possibility," N said, and as Lea whirled to face him with one fist raised, he added loudly, "It is! Pokémon Trainers abuse pokémon! The very notion of pokémon training calls for their abuse!"

"That's the biggest crock of bullshit I've ever—"

"Look what happened to that purrloin," N said, and he gestured to the bundle in her arms. "Look what those Trainers did to it and tell me that Trainers aren't abusive."

"Those were two sicko creepers, and that had nothing to do with training—"

"Look at what battling entails! Humans sending pokémon out to fight and get hurt for their own amusement! Pokémon sustain injury in every battle, and humans don't even care!"

"Of course we freaking care! Why do you think medicine exists, huh? And Pokémon Centers, and a whole bunch of other stuff? It's to take care of the pokémon!"

"Oh, yes, heal them after you've forced them to fight for you! How kind!"

"We're not _forcing _them to do anything—"

"Then what do they get out of it, Lea? What purpose does battling for their lives give them?"

"The—the thrill of competition, and exercise so they can stretch their legs and stuff—"

"Oh, that's nice. The brief chance at fresh air outside of their imprisonment—"

"Look, jerkwad, I don't know what you want from me!" By this point, Lea was yelling again, though fortunately they were closer to the store than they were to the houses, so there was less risk of waking anyone up. "Pokémon _like _battling, okay? They like being trained! If they didn't, Ganon could roast me at any time, or Dogmeat could chew my face off or something—"

"And that's another thing! You humans just give them names like you have any right to do so! You don't even bother to care about the fact that they had names _before _you enslaved them, before you—"

She couldn't do much due to the purrloin in her arms, but after shifting it so that she was holding it in the crook of her left arm, Lea reached out with her right and shoved N backward. He stumbled, clearly surprised, but she didn't give him time to think of a response, and instead glared heatedly at him.

"You are _obnoxious_! Yeah, I name my pokémon—so the frick what? They like their names! They answer to 'em just fine! And I take damn good care of 'em, too! So you know what you can do? You can go suck a crowbar and get bent, 'cause you are the _opposite_ of Zubatman and I don't even wanna look at your stupid face anymore!" That being said, Lea spun on her heel and started stomping toward the store again, and when N followed, she snapped, "I said _screw off_, N. Quit following me!"

"I want to help bury the purrloin," he said stubbornly. Lea made a frustrated sound in the back of her throat, but tossed one hand into the air.

"Fine. Whatever. Just don't freaking talk to me as we do it, y'okay? 'Cause I seriously might just go bananers and have Thing melt your face off if you do." Victini chirruped from her head, and N crossed his arms over his chest.

"Hmph. Fine."

"Fine!"

The two continued in angry silence (only broken by Victini's occasional chirps and chitters, which they ignored) until they reached the twenty-four hour all-purpose store, which proudly proclaimed itself to be 'DOR*MART' in big, bold blue letters over the entrance. Despite the late hour and secluded location, it seemed busy; bicycles and motorcycles were parked outside the doors, and through the glass doors Lea could see a variety of people perusing the aisles and crossing the spotted linoleum. As they reached the doors, she turned to N, and held the purrloin out to him. He stared at her, and she huffed impatiently.

"Dude, I can't go walking through Dor*Mart with a dead purrloin in my arms, y'okay? And _you_ can't go walking through Dor*Mart with blood all over your freaking shirt. So sit out here and hold this until I get back." She gave him a severe look. "And don't even think about running off. Burying the purrloin was _my _idea." He glared in return.

"It isn't a contest, and I don't know how to bury it, anyway."

"Good. Wait here."

There were a few people staring as she turned and headed toward the sliding glass doors, but apart from flipping them a rude hand gesture (which caused a nearby older woman to gasp in indignation), Lea ignored them, concentrating on getting in, getting the shovels, and getting out. Of course, the bright lights, loud sounds, and different objects made Victini pounce off her head almost immediately after she entered, but though it dove for packages of cookies sitting on an aisle table, she quickly snatched it out of the air and shoved it into her bag.

"Stupid Thing, stay in there," she warned, and when she noticed a blue-vested employee looking at her strangely, she waved him off. "Don't worry, Jill Murry; Thing's already used to this sorta . . . thing." From inside her bag (for she hadn't zippered it all the way) Victini trilled its consent, and the employee wandered off with a bemused look.

Truth be told, Lea had never been in a store like Dor*Mart before. The chain hadn't existed back in sleepy Nuvema Town, and after leaving on her journey, she'd only really shopped at the PokéMarts located within Pokémon Centers. So there was a part of her that couldn't blame Victini for being excited—a part of her that wanted to make a beeline for the sports section, game section, and toy sections all at once. Dor*Mart seemed to sell everything, and though she didn't have an endless supply of money, a store that sold _everything _sent out a siren call to her more pointless whims and desires.

But fortunately, in that instance, she could grab her impulses in a stranglehold and shove them down. She was there on a mission, and that mission led her to weave through the shoppers meandering through the aisles, around their overflowing grocery carts and mobility scooters as she went. N was still outside with the purrloin, with the _dead_ purrloin, because two _regular trainers _had murdered it. She didn't want to think about it—at least, not before she had what she came for—but every time she did it spurred her to walk faster, to work on getting the shovels faster so she could bury the purrloin as quickly as possible. And once she had the shovels in hand, the other shoppers seemed to clear out of her way on their own; something about seeing a nearly six-foot tall girl wielding dual shovels and looking ready to spit rocks must have said more than her elbowing ever could have. It was to the point where even though the cashier gave her an odd look for purchasing two shovels and a plastic container, he didn't say anything, and instead just rang her through.

When she exited the store, the shovels braced up against her shoulder, she found N sitting on a curb nearby. She walked up to him, about to snap at him that it was time to get going, but slowed as she neared. Over his shoulder, she could see that he was cradling the dead purrloin like one might hold a baby, and had her hoodie opened just enough so that he could gently trace the outline of the purrloin's face. Somehow he'd managed to close its eyes, and though it didn't quell the frustration she currently felt toward him, the way he held the purrloin so tenderly made some of her fiery anger fade. After a moment, N seemed to notice her presence, for he turned to look at her before standing up.

"Are you ready?" he asked. She nodded stiffly, and moved past him, any warm, fuzzy feelings she may have had gone.

"Yeah. Let's go. We passed a park on the way here—we can bury it there." N walked over to match her pace, and after a moment, asked:

"Where is Victini?"

"Oh." Lea unzipped her bag the rest of the way and Victini hopped out, perfectly cheerful despite N's scandalized look. "Thing tried to eat a table full of cookies in the store, so I had to put it in detention. And before you even say anything, Thing deserved it and was totally fine." Victini chirped, bouncing on Lea's head in excitement. "See?" N made a disgruntled sound and looked forward again.

"I wasn't going to say anything."

"Good. Don't."

The park was only a seven minute walk from Dor*Mart, and consisted of playground equipment for nearby kids, as well as a small grassy hill with a single tree on it. Lea headed straight for the hill, and the second she reached it she threw the shovels down, thereafter turning to face N with her arms outstretched. "Gimme the purrloin. I need to put it in the coffin."

"Coffin?" he repeated uncertainly. Lea shrugged, and pulled the plastic container out of her bag.

"Well, it's not a _real_coffin, but it's the best Dor*Mart could do on short notice." Victini hopped down from her head to examine the shovels, and Lea held out her arms again. "So, c'mon. Gimme."

N carefully handed the purrloin over, and Lea knelt down so that she could pry the lid off the plastic container, thereafter laying the purrloin gently inside. She gave the creature a sad little smile as she did so, laying the lid back on top and snapping it shut.

"He can keep my hoodie," she said, and there was no real reason for saying it, other than to fill the silence. "I can always get another one, and anyway, maybe it'll keep him from freezing down there."

"He's dead," N pointed out, as Lea stood back up and grabbed the shovels. "He can't feel temperature anymore." Once again, any fuzzy emotions Lea felt out of sympathy for the purrloin were dashed, and she turned to chuck one of the shovels at N. Fortunately for him, he managed to catch it before it hit him in the face.

"Way to be a killjoy, McCoy. Just shut up and start digging."

It was clear that N didn't know how to dig a grave—didn't even know how to hold a shovel—but Lea wasn't in the mood to teach him, and he seemed able to mimic her actions easily enough. Unfortunately, without a specific goal other than mindless digging to distract her, Lea's thoughts wandered back to the reason _why _they were digging the grave, and the more she thought about it, the worse she felt.

Before that night, Lea would have bet any money that Team Plasma's cause was a pointless one. They screamed for pokémon liberation, insisted that pokémon were abused and mistreated by Trainers, and Lea laughed in the face of all of their demonstrations and propaganda. No one abused pokémon—the very thought was crazy-talk. People and pokémon lived in peace and harmony and yadda yadda, and that was how it had always been. People liked pokémon, pokémon liked people, and similarly, both people and pokémon liked battling. It was common sense.

But while Team Plasma's claims had always been easy to dismiss _before_, after seeing those two boys torture a purrloin to death . . . they were only two boys, but who was to say there weren't others like them out there? Didn't they say that lots of people made pokémon crushing videos to put on ViewTube? Lea had never seen or heard of those videos before, but then again, she didn't go looking for them. She'd never want to watch anything that sick. But if others did, then . . . could they be trusted around pokémon? And if not, how could they be stopped? What way was there to stop them from torturing pokémon for entertainment, other than banning pokémon altogether, or at least making it super hard to capture them?

_But not_ everyone _tortures their pokémon,_ Lea thought bitterly, shoving the tip of her shovel into the earth with a little more force than necessary. _So it's totally not fair to try and take pokémon away from _everybody.

But what was more important: the safety of pokémon, or the happiness of decent people?

And then there was N. Lea glanced over her shoulder to see that he had gotten the hang of digging, tossing dirt up over the side of the grave they were digging. It was pretty obvious to her by now that he was at least a supporter of Team Plasma, if not an outright member, despite the absence of a dorky blue uniform. As much as she wanted to punch him in the face for insinuating that she was cruel to her pokémon, he raised points she couldn't easily laugh at or ignore. Sure, _her _pokémon liked battling, but it was probably a safe bet that not all pokémon did. And what about those that didn't? What if they got captured by a Trainer that didn't get that? What happened to them then?

She didn't want to think about it. She didn't want to think about _any _of it. She was much happier treating her journey as an awesome joyride, cruising around Unova without paying attention to anything Team Plasma said or did. But it was hard to ignore an issue when it posed itself as a tortured, dead purrloin, and as she finished digging the grave deep enough, she couldn't help but feel a bit sick as she tossed her shovel up over the side.

"There," she said, and she lightly tapped N on the shoulder with her fist to get his attention. "This is probably deep enough. We can stop digging now." N nodded, and—as she had—tossed the shovel up over the side of the grave before climbing out himself. Lea crawled halfway out of the grave to grab the purrloin's makeshift coffin, placing it down at the bottom before she finally climbed up out of the grave herself.

In truth, the grave was far too big; it was much longer, deeper, and wider than the makeshift coffin, but with two people digging a single-cat grave, Lea supposed they were asking for it. She caught Victini as it tried to hop down after the purrloin, holding it to her chest as N spoke.

"So, what do we do now?"

"If you have anything nice to say about the purrloin, you say it," Lea said, and she dropped Victini on the ground as she picked up her shovel again, preparing to scoop dirt back onto the grave. "Otherwise, we toss the dirt back on to finish bury—Arceus damn it, Thing, get away from there!"

Ears drooping, Victini hovered back onto the solid earth by Lea's feet, before it spotted a little pile of acorns nearby, and went to chase those instead, all interest in the grave lost. N stared at the purrloin in the grave before he finally said quietly:

"I didn't know the purrloin well enough to say anything specific, but I can say that I will do my best to make sure tragedies like this don't happen again." His gaze hardened and his fists clenched. "With all the power bestowed upon me as Team Plasma's King, in the name of this purrloin and all victims like it, I'll do whatever I can to make sure this doesn't happen again."

"You're _Team Plasma's_ King? _That's _what you meant by all that crazy-talk back there?" Lea asked. N nodded curtly, not looking away from the purrloin, and Lea laughed humorlessly. "Guess I shoulda figured. You're all the same brands of crazy they are." He turned to look at her with a sharp glare.

"You think pokémon liberation is crazy?"

"Yeah," Lea answered immediately, but her gaze was drawn back to the purrloin in the grave, and she gripped the shovel a little harder. "No. Look, I don't know, okay? Let's just finish up and stop talking about it."

"Fine. But considering the fact that Victini chose you, you should be different. You should be on _our _side." N picked up his shovel and helped her toss the dirt back in the grave as she pointedly ignored what he said, only stopping when Victini grew bored of the acorns and tried to mess around in what it saw as a giant funhouse again. When they finally tossed the last shovelfuls of dirt back into the grave, sweating and exhausted from the work, N tossed his shovel down and sat down upon the grass. Lea, after patting the dirt to make it firm, did the same, sitting next to him as Victini found a sewaddle to chase.

"I didn't mean to kill them," N said after a moment. Lea looked over at him, but he was staring at Victini and sewaddle. "Those humans. I'm not sorry they're dead, but I didn't mean to kill them. I wasn't touching them when it happened."

"So, what, you killed them with your mind or something?" Lea asked. N shrugged, and she tore some grass up from the ground to play with it. "That's kinda cool. I saw a movie about a tire that could do that, once."

"A tire?"

"Yeah. It was kinda kooky, but funny. Me, Cheren, and Bi watched it during a sleepover." Silence fell between them again, as Lea made a grass whistle, she said quietly, "But whether you meant to do it or not, you still killed those people, dude. It's still murder."

"Are you going to tell the Gym Leader of this city?" N asked. Lea laughed, short and sarcastic.

"Yeah, okay, that'd turn out real well. We'd both get arrested, and I really don't wanna think about the chewing out I'd get from Cheren if I got arrested for being an accomplice to murder." N didn't laugh, and after a moment Lea said, "But I have been thinking that maybe we should've buried those bodies, too. Make it harder for the police to find."

"You would have helped me hide them?"

"Real friends help friends hide bodies, right?" Lea stood up and brushed the grass off her shorts, feeling exhausted, but suddenly too wired and antsy to relax. "But it's too late now. It's been a couple hours, so if we went back, we'd probably get caught. The only thing left to do now is get the Hell outta dodge. And we have to split up, too, so that if they catch one of us, at least they won't get the other. So no following me this time, all right?" N shrugged, and looked back at the grave.

"That's fine."

"Right. So . . . bye." N didn't look back at her as she turned to walk away, leaving the shovels where they were. Victini hopped after her, chirping loudly as it flew up to land on her shoulder, and though she was annoyed by its chirping, she still reached up to scratch it behind the ears.

"You don't think I'm a pokémon abuser, do you, Thing? And you don't think Cheren or Bi are either, right?" Victini made a chirping noise which she took to be an agreement, but realized a moment later might have been disapproval, because she couldn't tell the difference. She scowled, and kicked at a stray rock on the ground as she made her way to the street.

It was three in the morning and she knew she should sleep, but at the moment, all she wanted to do was get the Hell out of Castelia City.

* * *

**References:**

_-"The ancient art of butt whoop" _comes from _Jackie Chan Adventures._

_-"You are the opposite of Zubatman" _is a play on "you are the opposite of Batman" from _Community._

_-"Liars have to swallow a thousand needles" _comes from _Tales of Symphonia._


End file.
